Percy&Marisol Jackson & the Olympians: TLT
by little-miss-fire-starter
Summary: Percy and Marisol meet for the first time in over twelve years. Their mom has been captured by their uncle, they're claimed as thieves, and they learn they're twins. Fun huh? What a great family reunion. Read and Review Check Out The Other Percy & Marisol Stories
1. just a disclaimer

Hey! I forgot a disclaimer.

I do not own the Percy Jackson and the olympians series, nor do I own Percy and any caracters that you would see in the book series. I own Marisol and any other OCs unless I say I do and I can promise you that I will tell you if I do not.

This disclaimer stands for all chapters of this story.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Hey everybody who is reading this. Listen, I tried this once before and Mari was a Mary Sue *Shivers* It was a horrid point in my writing life. She was also named Maritima. So now she is Marisol, and totally different then what I was aiming for. I'm gonna go with this and if I have enough positive feedback by the end of the book I'll continue. **_

_**This chapter is dedicated to **_**all-star102938**

_**She's awesome.**_

_**Oh and if you want to check out **_**Growing Up Marisol**_**and **_**Growing Up Perseus**_**for some back story.**_

_**Kay, read on if you want.**_

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Theif**

**I Accidentally Vaporize my Pre-Algebra Teacher**

* * *

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.

If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life. Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.

But if you recognize yourself in these pages—if you feel something stirring inside—stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time before _they _sense it too, and they'll come for you.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Percy Jackson.

I'm twelve years old.

Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan— twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff. I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were. But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

Boy, was I wrong.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyway.

And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that... Well, you get the idea.

This trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich. Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades, because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumbled.

Grover tried to calm me down. "It's okay. I like peanut butter." He dodged another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I started to get up, but Grover pulled me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminded me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Looking back on it, I wish I'd decked Nancy Bobofit right then and there. In-school suspension would've been nothing compared to the mess I was about to get myself into.

Mr. Brunner led the museum tour. He rode up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery. It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a _stele, _for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year, when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned around and said, "Will you _shut up_?"

It came out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story. "Mr. Jackson," he said, "did you have a comment?"

My face was totally red. I said, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?

I looked at the carving, and felt a flush of relief, because I actually recognized it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he _did _this because ..."

"Well..." I racked my brain to remember. "Kronos was the king god, and—"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asked.

"Titan," I corrected myself. "And ... he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" said one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continued, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover muttered.

"Shut up," Nancy hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears. I thought about his question, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming. I told Grover to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go— intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told me.

"About the Titans?"

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard. I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!'" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever _lived, _and their mother, and what god they worshipped.

But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C— in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be _as good; _he expected me to be _better. _And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner took one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He told me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue. Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York State had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in. Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from _that _school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius."

Grover didn't say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he said, "Can I have your apple?"

I didn't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. She'd hug me and be glad to see me, but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table. I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I was so mad my mind went blank. A wave roared in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I didn't know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks."

That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.

"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. _I _pushed her."

I stared at him, stunned. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But—"

"You—_will_—stay—here."

Grover looked at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I told him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at me. "_Now_."

Nancy Bobofit smirked.

I gave her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure.

I went after Mrs. Dodds. Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel.

I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall. _Okay_, I thought. _She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop._

But apparently that wasn't the plan. I followed her deeper into the museum. When I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery was empty.

Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling. Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said.

I did the safe thing. I said, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil. _She's a teacher_, I thought nervously_. It's not like she's going to hurt me._

I said, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she was talking about. All I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on _Tom Sawyer _from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hissed.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.

With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes. My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.

She snarled, "Die, honey!"

And she flew straight at me.

Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword. The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water. _Hisss!_

Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.

I was alone.

There was a ballpoint pen in my hand. Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but me. My hands were still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I went back outside. It had started to rain.

Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I said, "Who?"

"Our _teacher._ Duh!"

I blinked. We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away. I asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

He said, "Who?" But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at me, so I thought he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I told him. "This is serious."

Thunder boomed overhead. I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book, as if he'd never moved. I went over to him.

He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I handed Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stared at me blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

* * *

I bolted up in bed and looked around. Cabin eleven was empty, and by my head was a note from Luke, the head counselor of this cabin and one of my best friends. I opened it up and read it hastily. Thankfully, it was written in Greek so that I'd be able to read it easier.

_Mari,_

_How are you feeling today kiddo? I hope you can catch us at dinner, if not I'll bring you somethin back. I hope you haven't been having any more weird dreams, and I hope you wake up before noon. I'll check on you with Annie whenever we can and we'll see you soon._

_~Luke_

I smiled; Luke was eighteen and a son of Hermes. I'd met him when he was thirteen, five years ago. We hadn't exactly been the best of friends at first sight, but we'd grown to have that sibling-like bond that we were happy with. Annie was my other friend Annabeth Chase. She was a twelve year old daughter of Athena. I'd met her when I met Luke, as well as another girl named Thalia. Thalia had been a daughter of Zeus who never actually made it to camp. Who am I? I'm Marisol. I don't have a last name. Doubt I ever will. I'm an unclaimed demigod. I know who my parent is though, and I know I am unclaimed for my own protection. That has to be the reason.

Would my own father not claim me, because he doesn't love me?

No, that's not what my best friend Elizabeth told me. So it's impossible. I sighed as I rolled over in bed and buried my face into my pillow.

I felt my head throb and I clutched it as his voice filled my head again.

*Am I going crazy?* the boy asked. No, it wasn't Luke. It was the boy that had been haunting me for as long as I could remember.

*No, you're not crazy, just a bit unlucky. Did what I think just happen really happen?* I responded in my head.

*I don't know! Did it?*

*I think so. I just hope you survive long enough to find us. You'll be safe when you do.*

*Yeah, I'm crazy. Because there's a girl's voice in my head, and she's telling me stuff about surviving long enough. I'm whacko.*

*No, just stupid.*

*Hey!*

*Heyyy.*

*Not that kind of hey!*

*I know that.*

*Whatever. Who are you? You've never told me. I figure the girl in my head should at least have a name so I don't feel as crazy as I do.*

*I'm Marisol. I have no last name. Who are _you_?*

*I'm Percy. Percy Jackson.*

*Good to know.*

*Ditto. I gotta go, I'll think to you later.*

*Sure. Think whenever, just don't hurt yourself.*

*Hey!*

*Ha. Bye Percy.*

*Bye Marisol.*

_So you finally have a name_, I thought to myself. I pushed myself out of bed and got ready for a late start on the day, seeing as it was still sort of early. I looked at the watch on my wrist to see it was nearing eleven in the morning. I felt better than yesterday and I knew I could join my cabin mates at archery. I got ready, ate a late breakfast, and went off to find my cabin, taking my sweet time to avoid archery.

For the rest of the day, the one thing on my mind was him. Percy Jackson.

* * *

**Review?**

**Again, this chapter is dedicateed to all-star102938 . Love her! **

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**

**P.S. I may be changing my name again soon.**


	3. Chapter 2

Hey, I got some positive feedback on the first chapter, but I think maybe we can do a little better and shoot me a few more good or helpful reviews? I love my readers and this chapter is dedicated to**_ corpse blood _**and _**xXMizz Alec VolturiXx **._ I love those two. They've been great supporters from the start of this whole thing. 

Okay, it gets more exciting in My Mother Teaches Me Bullfighting and from then on because the twins will be together. So please, bear with me til then?

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**Three Old Ladies Knit the Socks of Death**

* * *

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twenty-four/seven hallucination was more than I could handle. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on me.

The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr—a perky blond woman whom I'd never seen in my life until she got on our bus at the end of the field trip—had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas. Every so often I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could trip them up, but they would stare at me like I was psycho. It got so I almost believed them—Mrs. Dodds had never existed.

Almost.

But Grover couldn't fool me.

When I mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, and then claim she didn't exist. But I knew he was lying.

Something was going on. Something _had _happened at the museum.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings would wake me up in a cold sweat.

There was another thing. It was her voice in my head, whispering to me that I wasn't crazy. What voice? Marisol's voice. Sure, hearing the voice of a girl you don't know and doubt the existence of is probably a telltale warning that you're going whacko, but something told me this girl was out there somewhere, and somehow we'd gotten into each other's heads. When I first spoke to her, I was so young I can't even remember what we said. The first time I can remember was when I was three, and I scraped my knee. She had told me not to cry because I was a tough kid and that nothing could _really _hurt me.

The next time we spoke, we were seven. Her friends had died, and I'd seen the whole thing. A lot of it confused me, what they were saying, but she had been bawling. She had been so sad that I felt it, and tried telling her she was okay, and that things would get better.

We talked more after that, but we had never exchanged names. Until after the thing with Ms. Dodds happened. She told me I wasn't crazy, and since then we've spoken much more. Very night, she'd whisper a goodnight and tell me that I wasn't crazy. She'd tell me I'd have to hang in there, and that Grover needed to go to Lying School.

I'm guessing you know that I wish I knew her in real life right? She's awesome.

The freak weather continued, which didn't help my mood. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs.

I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her friends.

I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class.

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped. I called him an old sot. I wasn't even sure what it meant, but it sounded good. The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine.

I was homesick.

I wanted to be with my mom in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious stepfather and his stupid poker parties..

And yet... there were things I'd miss at Yancy. The view of the woods outside my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees. I'd miss Grover, who'd been a good friend, even if he was a little strange. I worried how he'd survive next year without me.

I'd miss Latin class, too—Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that I could do well. As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test I studied for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him.

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the _Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology _across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Forget it.

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt. I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. _I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson._

I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book.

I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried.

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor. I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said,

_"..._ worried about Percy, sir."

I froze.

I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking about you to an adult.

I inched closer.

*Freeze Percy. You'll get caught! Stop moving!* Marisol warned. Did she honestly believe I'd listen?

"... alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the _school_! Now that we know for sure, and _they _know too—"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more."

"But he may not have time. The summer solstice dead line— _"_

"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can."

"Sir, he _saw _her... ."

"His imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that."

"Sir, I ... I can't fail in my duties again." Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean."

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now let's just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall—"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

*Percy! Quick, grab the book, don't run your sneakers will squeak. Take very careful steps. If you get caught, you're a goner. Trust me, I've been in these situations before.* My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall. Yes, this time I listened.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archer's bow.

I opened the nearest door and slipped inside.

A few seconds later I heard a slow _clop-clop-clop, _like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, and then moved on.

A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn ..."

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow."

"Don't remind me."

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office. I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever. Finally, I slipped out into the hallway and made my way back up to the dorm. Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night.

"Hey," he said, bleary-eyed. "You going to be ready for this test?"

I didn't answer.

"You look awful." He frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"Just... tired."

I turned so he couldn't read my expression, and started getting ready for bed. I didn't understand what I'd heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I'd imagined the whole thing.

But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger. Marisol stayed silent after saying she had some research to do.

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside. For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Percy," he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's ... it's for the best."

His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.

I mumbled, "Okay, sir."

"I mean ..." Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."

My eyes stung.

Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn't handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

"Right," I said, trembling. *Percy, we aren't normal. We're better then normal. Just remember that, and don't let it upset you.*

*Upset. Bye Mari. I'll chat later.*

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say ... you're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be—"

"Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for reminding me."

"Percy—"

But I was already gone.

On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.

The other guys were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were _rich _juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody, from a family of nobodies.

They asked me what I'd be doing this summer and I told them I was going back to the city.

What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job walking dogs or selling magazine subscriptions, and spend my free time worrying about where I'd go to school in the fall.

"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool."

They went back to their conversation as if I'd never existed.

The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. He'd booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen.

* * *

I decided it was time to do some snooping since Chiron wasn't at camp. I needed to find the things I'd been sent to camp with.

I gathered together a squad of experts and we snuck into the Big House.

Who were the experts?

Connor and Travis Stoll, the most devious sons of Hermes you could find at the moment.

We raided Chiron's chambers until I stumbled and knocked into the book case. A few books fell and hit me on the head and Connor and Travis began snickering as they helped me clean up.

Then I found Chiron's journal. Yes, even centaurs who are thousands of years old have journals.

It was so heavy that the Stolls had to hold it for me while I scoped through the pages. I opened the book up and flipped straight to the middle where the stitching was exposed, and a key slid free of the pages. It was small and golden. I knew immediately that this was for Chiron's magical safety deposit box.

"Hey Trav, give me a boost so that can get to the safety deposit," I whispered as I pointed to the wooden box that was in the wall. It was a few feet above me and I knew Chiron must use something to get up there. A human boost was as good as anything for me. I was about to climb onto Travis' shoulders when we heard footstep in the hallway. "_Di immortales_. Quick, put everything back!"

We scrambled around for a few seconds until the key was back in the big book and all of the books were back in the shelves. We hurriedly took seats around Chiron's room and began throwing around a hacky sack, smacking it back and forth with daggers.

When the door opened we dropped out daggers in 'surprise' and turned to see Mr. D standing in the doorway.

"What are you three doing in here?" he asked with a mix of boredom and anger. I gulped and prayed that I was still his favorite demigod.

"I didn't feel good, so Travis and Connor came with me here so that I could relax and they decided to stay with me so that in case something happens they could get me help. I'm sorry Mr. D," I said innocently. His glare softened and he settled for a stern talking-to.

"If you felt faint, you should have gone to the infirmary. You seem fine now so go join your cabin with their activities and don't let me _catch_ you again," he said sternly. I smiled and stood before leaving Chiron's office with the Stolls, smiling at Mr. D and nodding.

When we reached the canoeing lake I ground my teeth together and shot the boys a look.

"We've gotta try that again," I whispered with pure determination.

"Did you honestly think we wouldn't?" Connor smirked.

* * *

Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

Finally I couldn't stand it anymore.

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha—what do you mean?"

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much _did _you hear?"

"Oh ... not much. What's the summer solstice dead-line?"

He winced. "Look, Percy ... I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers …"

"Grover—"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and ..."

"Grover, you're a really, really bad liar."

His ears turned pink. From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer. The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

_Grover Underwood_

_Keeper_

_Half-Blood Hill_

_Long Island, New York_

_(800)_ _009-0009_

"What's Half—"

"Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my, um ... summer address."

My heart sank. Grover had a summer home. I'd never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.

"Okay," I said glumly. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion."

He nodded. "Or...or if you need me."

"Why would I need you?"

It came out harsher than I meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to his Adam's apple. "Look, Percy, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you."

I stared at him.

All year long, I'd gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I'd lost sleep worrying that he'd get beaten up next year without me. And here he was acting like he was the one who defended _me._

"Grover," I said, "What exactly are you protecting me from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and steered the Greyhound over to the side of the highway. After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road—no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really good: heaping boxes of blood red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice_. _There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks I'd ever seen.

I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at me.

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man—"

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?"

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all."

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors—gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

"We're getting on the bus," he told me. "Come on."

"What?" I said. "It's a thousand degrees in there."

"Come on!'" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that _snip _across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for—Sasquatch or Godzilla.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!"

Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the flu.

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

* * *

I was currently in the middle of canoeing with Travis and Connor when my head started hurting. The world began to blur, and I heard one thing on replay in my mind.

_Snip!_

I felt my eyes flutter shut and my body began to sway. Then I fell out of the canoe and into the lake.

Everything from there is nothing more than a big empty darkness.

* * *

"Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you not telling me?"

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like ... Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, "Just tell me what you saw."

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn."

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost—older.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord."

"Yeah. So?" But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal.

* * *

I woke up with a startled gasp, sitting upright as though Thalia had zapped me (Long, _Long,_ story).

"What happened?" I asked as I looked around. I relaxed as I saw Travis sitting by my bed in the infirmary and when I looked to my other side Connor sat there as well. I smiled at them as I remembered the lake incident but then I remembered why it had happened in the first place.

_Snip!_

I heard in my head. I groaned and fell back against my pile of pillows before I decided to talk to the ceiling above me.

"We have to try again. We have to get into Chiron's office," I declared.

* * *

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time."

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth."

"Grover," I said, because he was really starting to scare me. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me."

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could.

"Is this like a superstition or something?" I asked.

No answer.

* * *

I crawled out of my bed in the infirmary and the Stolls followed me to Chiron's office in the big house. I pulled out a thin golden chain and held the bronze key at the end of it. the spare key to Chiron's office. Only Annabeth had the third, I had the second, and Chiron, of course, had the first. I slid the key into the lock and turned it, unlocking the door.

We snuck in and Travis stood by the book case while Connor snuck around Chiron's desk looking for anything that could be important.

* * *

"Grover—that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?"

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin.

* * *

I climbed onto Travis' thirteen year old shoulders and he seemed to be enjoying this much more than he should. As we passed the book case I _accidentally _dropped a book on his head.

"Ouch!" he hissed at me.

"Oops. Guess you shouldn't be enjoying this as much as you are, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah."

We got to the box and I slid the key in and unlocked it. Apparently, what I thought was the front of the box was actually a panel that swung open to reveal a simple iron box with flip-up latches. I pulled it out of the wall and tossed it to Connor who caught it and set it down on the desk. He began rifling through it carefully and Travis released his hold on my legs as I braced myself on his shoulders. I slid my legs off his shoulders and dropped swiftly to the ground.

Connor walked forward with a stricken look on his face, and he hand me a neatly written letter. I read it through while Travis read it over my shoulder.

Once I finished I handed Con the letter and we put everything back the way we found it.

As we left the Big House, without leaving a trace, the Stolls seemed to walk with caution.

"Mari, you okay?" Connor asked me.

"Oh I'm fine," I hissed through tightly gritted teeth. "It's Chiron you should be worried about. Start choosing which flowers will look lovely on his coffin. He's a dead horse wheelin'."

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	4. Chapter 3

Hey. I'm back. I want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me forty eight days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to IzzyQuagmi re0907 who I see as a little sister and care for very much. She's an amazing kid and she's a great friend.

Okay, it gets more exciting in My Mother Teaches Me Bullfighting and from then on because the twins will be together. So please, bear with me til then?

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**Grover Unexpectedly Loses his Pants**

* * *

Confession time: I ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal.

I know, I know. It was rude. But Grover was freaking me out, looking at me like I was a dead man, muttering "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to be sixth grade?"

Whenever he got upset, Grover's bladder acted up, so I wasn't surprised when, as soon as we got off the bus, he made me promise to wait for him, then made a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, I got my suitcase, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown.

"East One-hundred-and-fourth and First," I told the driver.

A word about my mother, before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck.

Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.

The only good break she ever got was meeting my dad.

I don't have any memories of him, just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. My mom doesn't like to talk about him because _it _makes her sad. She has no pictures. See, they weren't married. She told me he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Lost at sea, my mom told me. Not dead. Lost at sea.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasn't an easy kid.

Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, I nick named him Smelly Gabe. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.

Between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and I got along ... well, when I came home is a good example.

I walked into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's my mom?"

"Working," he said. "You got any cash?"

That was it. No _Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?_

Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp, as if that made him handsome or something..

He managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home most of the time. I don't know why he hadn't been fired long before. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our "guy secret." Meaning, if I told my mom, he would punch my lights out.

"I don't have any cash," I told him.

He raised a greasy eyebrow. Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising, since his own smell should've covered up everything else.

"You took a taxi from the bus station," he said. "Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"

Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at me with a twinge of sympathy. "Come on, Gabe," he said. "The kid just got here."

"Am I _right_?_" _Gabe repeated.

Eddie scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The other two guys passed gas in harmony.

"Fine," I said. I dug a wad of dollars out of my pocket and threw the money on the table. "I hope you lose."

"Your report card came, brain boy!" he shouted after me. "I wouldn't act so snooty!"

* * *

I rolled over in bed and found another note from Luke.

_Mari,_

_Hey kiddo. Wakey wakey, you missed eggs and bakey. _

I giggled at that, of course I missed breakfast again. After my fainting episode and 'almost drowning', then having fits of rage, an Apollo camper named Will Solace said I had a high fever and was kinda messed up in the head because of it.

_Listen, there's just one thing I have to tell you. Don't try anything and try to stop talking in your sleep about dead horses wheelin'. _

_Kid, Chiron got back to camp today._

_~Luke_

I bolted out of bed and got ready, not caring that my fever was giving me a pounding headache and that I was dizzy as ever. I picked up my dagger and slid under my bed before using the dagger to pry the floor boards up. I looked for the pen/sword I'd found a few years back and growled in frustration when it wasn't where I left it.

I slid my hand into my pocket and there it was. The pen that turned into a sword.

I put my dagger in its sheath on my belt and felt my hand curl around my lockets and camp necklace.

Two lockets, one silver and from my father, one gold and from my dead best friend who I considered a sister. One camp necklace, twelve beads for every summer I've survived at the camp.

I looked at the dagger in my hand, given to me by its last owner Lucas (who I called Luca), my dead best friend who I'd considered a brother.

_Love Never Dies_

I had seen Chiron as a father. He lied to me about the most important part of my life.

He was going to pay one way or another

* * *

I slammed the door to my room, which really wasn't my room. During school months, it was Gabe's "study." He didn't study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loved shoving my stuff in the closet, leaving his muddy boots on my windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne and cigars and stale beer.

I dropped my suitcase on the bed. Home sweet home.

Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn. But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak.

* * *

I was running out of the Hermes cabin and into the ring of cabins when my legs felt weak.

_Snip!_

It was in my head again. My legs gave out and I tumbled to the ground. I was dizzy, and I was angry. Not a good combination.

* * *

I remembered Grover's look of panic—how he'd made me promise I wouldn't go home without him. A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone—something—was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons.

Then I heard my mom's voice. "Percy?"

She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted.

* * *

I got back up and ran again, only to be caught in the arms of Connor Stoll.

"Woah, where are you going? Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" he asked as his arms wound around me and held me in place as I struggled.

* * *

My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room.

Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad.

I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe.

* * *

"Chiron's back. I need to get to the big house," I said as I continued squirming. His grip on my waist tightened and I gritted my teeth as I felt the pain of his grip.

"Then give me your weapons. I'm not letting you do something stupid Mari," he said to me.

"Connor, let me go!" I yelled. He refused. I glared as I handed him my dagger and he released me. Thanks the gods he didn't know about the pen in my pocket. I was swearing at Connor the entire way to the Big House because he just _had _to tag along. I never swear. I was beyond angry right now.

I stormed into the Big House and Chiron's office, startling the old centaur.

* * *

"Oh, Percy." She hugged me tight. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas!"

Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home.

We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand through my hair and demanded to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She didn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She didn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing all right?

I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her.

From the other room, Gabe yelled, "Hey, Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?"

I gritted my teeth.

* * *

I gritted my teeth. Chiron smiled at us and told us to sit, but instead I glared and marched up to him.

"How could you?" I shouted. He kept his calm demeanor as I kept shouting. "How could you lie to me Chiron? Why didn't you tell me I have a family?!"

"Marisol, it was against your mother's wishes to tell you. I have been tracking her down for years and haven't found a thing."

"Liar! I know they're here! I know you know! He's been in my head since I was born! Grover went to his school this year! He called you in! I know you know where he is!" I screamed, trying to hit him. Connor had decided to spring up and restrain me in the typical arms-around-me fashion that restrained my arms as well. Darn him and his being-stronger-than-me.

Chiron deserved to be attacked by an angry demigod.

* * *

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. I told her I wasn't too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole year this time. I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself.

I started choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly didn't seem so bad.

Until that trip to the museum ...

* * *

"I know about the Fury at the museum!" I shouted, and everything went still.

"How did you . . . ?"

"Like I said, he's been in my head for as long as I can remember. I can't believe you kept that from me. Wanna see what I kept from you?" I asked angrily. I pulled the pen out of my pocket and uncapped it, the pen changing into a long bronze sword. Connor quickly released me and back away as he knew I was better with weapons than anyone in the whole camp except Chiron.

* * *

"What?" my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. "Did something scare you?"

"No, Mom."

I felt bad lying. I wanted to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I thought it would sound stupid.

She pursed her lips. She knew I was holding back, but she didn't push me.

* * *

"Where did you get that?" Chiron asked as he examined me and the sword.

"I found it, it's mine. My dad sent it to me," I said. Connor was stunned, I could feel it.

"Impossible. Let me see it," Chiron said. I handed him the sword and he examined the single word on the blade. His eyes went wide. He knew what it meant, and he knew who my father was. He probably figured it out years ago. Another thing to add to the list of what he's kept from me.

* * *

"I have a surprise for you," she said. "We're going to the beach."

My eyes widened. "Montauk?"

"Three nights—same cabin."

"When?"

She smiled. "As soon as I get changed."

I couldn't believe it. My mom and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money.

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

I wanted to punch him, but I met my mom's eyes and I understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here.

"I was on my way, honey," she told Gabe. "We were just talking about the trip."

Gabe's eyes got small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?"

"I knew it," I muttered. "He won't let us go."

"Of course he will," my mom said evenly. "Your step father is just worried about money. That's all. Besides," she added, "Gabriel won't have to settle for bean dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe softened a bit. "So this money for your trip ... it comes out of your clothes budget, right?"

"Yes, honey," my mother said.

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back."

"We'll be very careful."

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip ... And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game."

* * *

"Marisol, you must understand everything we've done is for your own safety. There's nothing we can do. Maybe your brother will arrive at camp in time―"

"And maybe I can kick you in your horse-spot and make you sing sa-frickin-prano for a frickin week!" I hissed as I snatched my sword back and capped it, before sticking it in my pocket as a pen. "I know there's another. I know he used it."

* * *

_Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot,_ I thought. _And make you sing soprano for a week_.

But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad.

_Why did she put up with this guy?_ I wanted to scream. _Why did she care what he thought?_

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now."

* * *

"Marisol, calm down," Connor said to me. I froze. Nobody but Chiron ever called me _Marisol _ unless they were serious, and I mean _serious_. Connor's arms wrapped around my shoulders and his chin rested on my head. Why does he have to be so tall? He's like four or five inches taller than me and he's only a year older than me. "Let's not offend Chiron. I don't know what's going on, but you need to _calm down_."

I sighed as I glared at Chiron. How could he?

* * *

Gabe's eyes narrowed. His tiny brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm in my statement.

"Yeah, whatever," he decided.

* * *

"I can't believe you did this. I see you as a father, and you've lied to me about my own family."

"You can fill me in on everything you're forgetting to tell me later," Connor whispered to me. I felt my eyes widen. I hadn't told anyone except Thalia about the boy in my head. The boy that I was linked to in so many unbelievable ways.

* * *

He went back to his game.

* * *

"I will never forgive you," I whispered to Chiron before I escaped Connor's hold and ran out of the Big House.

* * *

"Thank you, Percy," my mom said. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about... whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes—the same fear I'd seen in Grover during the bus ride—as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air.

But then her smile returned, and I figured I must have been mistaken. She ruffled my hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.

An hour later we were ready to leave.

Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom's bags to the car. He kept griping and groaning about losing her cooking—and more important, his '78 Camaro—for the whole weekend.

"Not a scratch on this car, brain boy," he warned me as I loaded the last bag. "Not one little scratch."

Like I'd be the one driving.

I was twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame me.

Watching him lumber back toward the apartment building, I got so mad I did something I can't explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the hand gesture I'd seen Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe. The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the stair case as if he'd been shot from a cannon.

Maybe it was just the wind, or some freak accident with the hinges, but I didn't stay long enough to find out.

*You used the sign of warding off evil?*

*IS that what that is?*

*Yup.*

*Cool?*

*Definitely. I've never seen it do that before, and I needed a laugh so thank you. *

I got in the Camaro and told my mom to step on it.

Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in.

I loved the place.

We'd been going there since I was a baby. My mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place where she'd met my dad.

As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea.

* * *

I ran for a long time, just so that I couldn't be found. As the sun began setting I ended up at the fireworks beach, on some glossy black rocks. I sat on the rocks farthest out in the water and stared at the sunset. I could see a beach on the other side of me as well, some cabins too. At least I think they were cabins. They could have been shacks, or cardboard boxes. I was too far away to tell.

As night began to fall, Travis, Connor, Luke, and Annabeth appeared with me on the rocks. Annabeth rested her head on my shoulder while Luke wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Connor had his back against mine, and Travis had his head in my lap. Yeah, these were my best friends at camp beside Grover Underwood and Charles Beckendorf. Sure I had lots of friends at camp, but those six were my main group.

"You wanna tell us what happened, Kiddo," Luke asked as I played with the blonde curls that had covered my right shoulder.

"From the beginning? It's a long story."

"We've got time before the Harpies come for our flesh," Travis said nonchalantly. I cracked a small smile, before I began my confusing life's story.

"It's been this way for as long as I can remember. There was this boy . . ."

* * *

We got there at sunset, opened all the cabin's windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

I guess I should explain the blue food.

See, Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This—along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano—was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like me.

When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.

Eventually, I got up the nerve to ask about what was always on my mind whenever we came to Montauk—my father. Mom's eyes went all misty. I figured she would tell me the same things she always did, but I never got tired of hearing them.

"He was kind, Percy," she said. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too. You have his black hair, you know, and his green eyes."

Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Percy. He would be so proud."

I wondered how she could say that. What was so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of school for the sixth time in six years.

"How old was I?" I asked. "I mean ... when he left?"

She watched the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

"But... he knew me as a baby."

"No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born."

I tried to square that with the fact that I seemed to remember ... something about my father. A warm glow. A smile.

I had always assumed he knew me as a baby. My mom had never said it outright, but still, I'd felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen me...

I felt angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resented him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry my mom. He'd left us, and now we were stuck with Smelly Gabe.

"Are you going to send me away again?" I asked her. "To another boarding school?"

She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey." Her voice was heavy. "I think ... I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want me around?"

* * *

" . . . I guess she gave me up because she didn't want me around," I finished, tears in my eyes that I refused to shed. I would not cry over some lady that ditched me at birth for my _safety._ Puh-lease.

AS soon as the words had left my mouth, however, my amazing friends had jumped to my defense, as well as hers, and made me feel better like only they could.

* * *

I regretted the words as soon as they were out.

My mom's eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezed it tight. "Oh, Percy, no. I—I _have _to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

Her words reminded me of what Mr. Brunner had said—that it was best for me to leave Yancy.

"Because I'm not normal," I said.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy. But you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe."

"Safe from what?"

She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me—all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which I'd tried to forget.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.

Before that—a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move.

I knew I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I couldn't make myself tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn't want that.

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," my mom said. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy—the place your father wanted to send you. And I just... I just can't stand to do it."

"My father wanted me to go to a special school?"

"Not a school," she said softly. "A summer camp."

My head was spinning. Why would my dad—who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me born— talk to my mom about a summer camp? And if it was so important, why hadn't she ever mentioned it before?

"I'm sorry, Percy," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I—I couldn't send you to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good."

"For good? But if it's only a summer camp ..."

She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry.

That night I had a vivid dream.

It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf.

The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagles wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. I saw the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I screamed, _No!_

I woke with a start.

* * *

I had fallen asleep that night on the rocks, only to dream of a fight between two gods. Two _important _gods.

Poseidon and Zeus.

"Return it brother, or there will be war," Zeus said to his brother.

"I did not steal it. I have no reason to," Poseidon said as calmly as possible. I could see it in his sea-green eyes though, that he was ready to lose it.

"Do not lie to me. You've wanted the throne for as long as I could remember."

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing. I am fine with the domain I have been given, and I have no way of retrieving your bolt. Accuse somebody else."

"You have that son of yours. If he doesn't return my master bolt by the summer solstice, there will be a war."

I woke with a start. I could hear their words in my head. _There will be war_.

I walked outside of the Hermes cabin in my pajamas only to be pelted by rain.

That was _not _normal at camp.

I rushed down to the beach only to see everything in chaos.

* * *

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery.

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said,

"Hurricane."

* * *

The waves were higher up on the sand then I've ever seen, and lightning lit up the sky just about everywhere. I flinched with each shock of bright light and I so desperately wanted to run back to my cabin. Sadly, I couldn't because I was frozen to the spot, my limbs refusing my command. It wasn't safe out here. This time, those two were really angry.

* * *

I knew that was crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten.

Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end.

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice—someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.

Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he wasn't... he wasn't exactly Grover.

"Searching all night," he gasped. "What were you thinking?"

My mother looked at me in terror—not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.

"Percy," she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn't understand what I was seeing.

_"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" _he yelled. "It's right behind me! Didn't you _tell _her?"

* * *

I heard a loud roar way off in the distance and it echoed in my mind. They were on the beach. Whatever made the roar was on the beach. Oh no.

Percy was on that beach.

* * *

I was too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover didn't have his pants on—and where his legs should be ... where his legs should be ...

My mom looked at me sternly and talked in a tone she'd never used before: _"Percy. _Tell me _now_!"

I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, "Get to the car. Both of you. _Go_!_"_

Grover ran for the Camaro—but he wasn't running, exactly. He was trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast and still limp when he walked.

Because where his feet should be, there were no feet. There were cloven hooves.

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	5. Chapter 4

Hey. I'm back for the second time today. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me forty eight days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to ALL OF THE ANONYMUS GUESTS WHO HAVE SUPPORTED ME. Seriously, I get that you don't have accounts but I love you all anyway because you make me smile with even the smallest bits of encouragement. Thanks to you all.

Here's where they meet. Sorta.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**My Mother Teaches me Bullfighting**

* * *

We tore through the night along dark country roads. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the wind shield. I didn't know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas.

Every time there was a flash of lightning, I looked at Grover sitting next to me in the backseat and I wondered if I'd gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants.

But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo— lanolin, like from wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal.

All I could think to say was, "So, you and my mom... know each other?"

Graver's eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, though there were no cars behind us. "Not exactly," he said. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you."

"Watching me?"

"Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend," he added hastily. "I _am _your friend."

"Urm ... what _are _you, exactly?"

"That doesn't matter right now."

"It doesn't matter? From the waist down, my best friend is a donkey—"

Grover let out a sharp, throaty _"Blaa-ha-ha!"_

I'd heard him make that sound before, but I'd always assumed it was a nervous laugh.

Now I realized it was more of an irritated bleat.

"Goat!" he cried.

"What?"

"I'm a _goat _from the waist down."

"You just said it didn't matter."

_"Blaa-ha-ha!_ There are satyrs who would trample you underhoof for such an insult!"

"Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like ... Mr. Brunner's myths?"

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a _myth, _Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth?"

"So you _admit _there was a Mrs. Dodds!"

"Of course."

"Then why—"

"The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said, like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are."

"Who I—wait a minute, what do you mean?"

The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail.

* * *

I sat on the rocks, flashes of lightning all around me, rain hitting every inch of me that it could. I moved my bangs out of my face and clipped them to the side of my head as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. Percy would be here soon. He had to make it. if he died, I'd have to go to the underworld, bring him back, then slap him for dying.

* * *

"Percy," my mom said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety."

"Safety from what? Who's after me?"

"Oh, nobody much," Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions."

"Grover!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?"

I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening, but I couldn't do it. I knew this wasn't a dream. I had no imagination. I could never dream up something this weird.

My mom made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened

farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences.

* * *

Something inside me clicked. When I blinked, I caught a flash of something. I wasn't sure what.

I closed my eyes and focused before an image flickered to life in my head. I stifled a gasp as I saw Grover and the lady in my locket. My mom. Grover. Oh my gods. I was looking at things through Percy's eyes. Oh gods. What's going on?

I decided to watch silently, hoping I'd be able to see through my own eyes again when I needed to.

* * *

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The summer camp I told you about." My mother's voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be scared. "The place your father wanted to send you."

"The place you didn't want me to go."

"Please, dear," my mother begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're in danger."

"Because some old ladies cut yarn."

"Those weren't old ladies," Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means—the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to ... when someone's about to die."

"Whoa. You said 'you.'"

"No I didn't. I said 'someone.'"

"You meant 'you.' As in _me._"

"I meant _you, _like 'someone.' Not you, _you._"

"Boys!" my mom said.

She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid—a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm.

"What was that?" I asked.

"We're almost there," my mother said, ignoring my question.

"Another mile. Please. Please. Please."

I didn't know where _there _was, but I found myself leaning forward in the car, anticipating, wanting us to arrive.

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness—the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leathery wings. My limbs went numb from delayed shock. She really _hadn't _been human. She'd meant to kill me.

Then I thought about Mr. Brunner ... and the sword he had thrown me. Before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck. There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling _boom!, _and our car exploded.

I remember feeling weightless, like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time.

* * *

Shocking pain burned my body and I was just about thrown back into my own head. I blinked and remembered I was down at the beach. I hastily stood up on the rocks and slipped, forgetting they were glossy and drenched. I fell onto my stomach and before my face could hit the rocks I'd snapped my jaws shut. I was not biting my tongue off ever again, not that I had before but I had come close and oh its not important.

I ran back to my cabin to find everybody awake and in total chaos.

"What's going on?" I asked Alex, a seven year old son of Hermes, as I moved toward my bed.

"We've been looking for you. We know you do crazy things when lightning strikes," he smirked. I whacked him upside the head and pulled my pen from under my pillow, and my dagger off of my nightstand. I ran back out of the cabin, not caring about what Luke was shouting, and ran toward the hill.

* * *

I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver's seat and said, "Ow."

"Percy!" my mom shouted.

"I'm okay..."

I tried to shake off the daze. I wasn't dead.

The car hadn't really exploded. We'd swerved into a ditch. Our driver's-side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in.

Lightning. That was the only explanation.

We'd been blasted right off the road. Next to me in the backseat was a big motionless lump. "Grover!"

He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I shook his furry hip, thinking, _No! Even if you are half barnyard animal, you're my best friend and I don't want you to die!_

Then he groaned "Food," and I knew there was hope.

"Percy," my mother said, "we have to ..." Her voice faltered.

I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His top half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns.

I swallowed hard. "Who is—"

"Percy," my mother said, deadly serious. "Get out of the car."

My mother threw herself against the driver's-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I tried mine. Stuck too. I looked up desperately at the hole in the roof. It might've been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking.

"Climb out the passenger's side!" my mother told me. "Percy—you have to run. Do you see that big tree?"

_"What?"_

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill. But there was something in it. Somebody was standing on the thickest branch about fifteen feet above the ground.

"That's the property line," my mom said. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door."

"Mom, you're coming too."

* * *

I ran toward Thalia's Pine and began climbing, scratching myself a bit in the process. I stood on a thick enough branch that was pretty high up before I closed my eyes and tried getting back into Percy's head.

After a minute, I managed. They were getting closer.

* * *

Her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean.

"No!" I shouted. "You _are _coming with me. Help me carry Grover."

"Food!" Grover moaned, a little louder.

The man with the blanket on his head kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises. As he got closer, I realized he _couldn't _be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands—huge meaty hands—were swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big to be his head ... was his head. And the points that looked like horns …

"He doesn't want _us_," my mother told me. "He wants _you. _Besides, I can't cross the property line."

"But..."

"We don't have time, Percy. Go. Please."

I got mad, then—mad at my mother, at Grover the goat,

at the thing with horns that was lumbering toward us slowly and deliberately like, like a bull.

I climbed across Grover and pushed the door open into the rain. "We're going together. Come on, Mom."

"I told you—"

"Mom! I am not leaving you. Help me with Grover."

I didn't wait for her answer. I scrambled outside, dragging Grover from the car. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn't have carried him very far if my mom hadn't come to my aid.

Together, we draped Grover's arms over our shoulders and started stumbling uphill through wet waist-high grass.

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of _Muscle Man _magazine—bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except under wear—

I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms—which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns—enormous black-and-white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener.

I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories Mr. Brunner told us. But he couldn't be real.

I blinked the rain out of my eyes. "That's—"

"Pasiphae's son," my mother said.

"I wish I'd known how badly they want to kill you."

"But he's the Min—"

"Don't say his name," she warned. "Names have power."

The pine tree was still way too far—a hundred yards uphill at least.

I glanced behind me again.

The bull-man hunched over our car, looking in the windows—or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn't sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away. "Food?" Grover moaned.

"Shhh," I told him. "Mom, what's he doing? Doesn't he see us?"

"His sight and hearing are terrible," she said. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough."

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded.

_Not a scratch, _I remembered Gabe saying.

_Oops_.

"Percy," my mom said. "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way— directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?".

"How do you know all this?"

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me."

"Keeping me near you? But—"

Another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tromping uphill.

He'd smelled us.

The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn't getting any lighter.

The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us.

My mother must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover. "Go, Percy! Separate! Remember what I said."

* * *

My eyes flickered open and I watched everything from my place in the pine. I couldn't move. I was frozen, but not by fear. My limbs simply wouldn't obey me, and I realized something had frozen the soles of my sneakers to Thalia's Pine. Darn it, somebody doesn't want me helping.

* * *

I didn't want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right—it was our only chance. I sprinted to the left, turned, and saw the creature bearing down on me. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat.

He lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest.

The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. I could never outrun this thing.

So I held my ground, and at the last moment, I jumped to the side.

The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward me this time, toward my mother, who was setting Grover down in the grass.

We'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We'd never make it.

The bull-man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover.

"Run, Percy!" she told me. "I can't go any farther. Run!"

But I just stood there, frozen in fear, as the monster charged her. She tried to sidestep, as she'd told me to do, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck as she tried to get away. He lifted her as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air.

"Mom!"

She caught my eyes, managed to choke out one last word: "Go!"

Then, with an angry roar, the monster closed his fists around my mother's neck, and she dissolved before my eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form, as if she were a holographic projection. A blinding flash, and she was simply ... gone.

"No!"

* * *

The scream left my lips. A simply word, caught in the wind. _No! _My heart seemed to split into unrecognizable bits and pieces. I fell out of the tree and landed on my back in the grass and on some hard roots. I didn't utter a sound as I scrambled up and ran toward the Big House. Chiron had to know what I'd seen. He had to know Percy was here. Percy needed help.

* * *

Anger replaced my fear. Newfound strength burned in my limbs—the same rush of energy I'd gotten when Mrs. Dodds grew talons..

The bull-man bore down on Grover, who lay helpless in the grass. The monster hunched over, snuffling my best friend, as if he were about to lift Grover up and make him dissolve too.

I couldn't allow that.

I stripped off my red rain jacket.

"Hey!" I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!"

"Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned toward me, shaking his meaty fists.

I had an idea—a stupid idea, but better than no idea at all.

I put my back to the big pine tree and waved my red jacket in front of the bull-man, thinking I'd jump out of the way at the last moment.

But it didn't happen like that.

The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab me whichever way I tried to dodge.

Time slowed down.

My legs tensed. I couldn't jump sideways, so I leaped straight up, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard, turning in midair, and landing on his neck.

How did I do that?

I didn't have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster's head slammed into the tree and the impact nearly knocked my teeth out.

The bull-man staggered around, trying to shake me. I locked my arms around his horns to keep from being thrown. Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils.

The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. He should have just backed up into the tree and smashed me flat, but I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward.

Meanwhile, Grover started groaning in the grass. I wanted to yell at him to shut up, but the way I was getting tossed around, if I opened my mouth I'd bite my own tongue off.

"Food!" Grover moaned.

The bull-man wheeled toward him, pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. I thought about how he had squeezed the life out of my mother, made her disappear in a flash of light, and rage filled me like high-octane fuel. I got both hands around one horn and I pulled backward with all my might. The monster tensed, gave a surprised grunt, then—_snap!_

The bull-man screamed and flung me through the air. I landed flat on my back in the grass. My head smacked against a rock. When I sat up, my vision was blurry, but I had a horn in my hands, a ragged bone weapon the size of a knife.

The monster charged.

Without thinking, I rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past, I drove the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage.

The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate—not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart.

The monster was gone.

The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open. I was weak and scared and trembling with grief I'd just seen my mother vanish. I wanted to lie down and cry, but there was Grover, needing my help, so I managed to haul him up and stagger down into the valley, toward the lights of the farm house.

* * *

"Chiron!" I shrieked as I burst into his office. I wasn't too stunned to see Annabeth working on some project of hers in the corner but they were both definitely startled to see my burst in at gods know what hour of the night. "He's here . . . the Minotaur! Grover! His mom! Come on! Come _on!_"

We ran outside to see Percy drag Grover onto the porch, before he collapsed.

* * *

I was crying, calling for my mother, but I held on to Grover—I wasn't going to let him go.

The last thing I remember is collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light, and the stern faces of a familiar-looking bearded man and a pair of pretty girls. One was crying, her black hair stuck to her face with rain and her green eyes shining. The other girl was in a better state, her blond hair curled like a princess's.

The three looked down at me, and the blonde girl said, "He's the one. He must be."

"Silence, Annabeth," the man said. "He's still conscious. Bring him inside."

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	6. Chapter 5

Hey. I'm back for the second time today. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me forty eight days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to viper marie Cahill , sapurplemonkey , and, sstabeler .

Here's where they meet. Sorta.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**I Play Pinochle With a Horse**

* * *

I had weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.

* * *

"Hey Annabeth," I whispered to her as we waiting in Chiron's office.

"Hmm?" she asked as she paced around the room mumbling about _the one_.

"Can you take care of Percy for me. I can't see him. Not after everything I saw last night," I whispered. She nodded and gave me a sympathetic smile that I didn't stick around to see. I had rushed out of there so fast I think there are skid marks leading from the big house to the cabin ring. It was only after a night of thinking and crying that I decided I had to visit Percy in the morning. So I would.

* * *

I must've woken up several times, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. The girl with curly blond hair hovered over me, smirking as she scraped drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she saw my eyes open, she asked, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

I managed to croak, "What?"

She looked around, as if afraid someone would over hear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "I don't..."

Somebody knocked on the door, and the girl quickly filled my mouth with pudding.

The next time I woke up, the girl was gone.

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stood in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He had blue eyes- at least a dozen of them- on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

* * *

I walked into the infirmary to see only one bed was occupied. Percy Jackson's unconscious figure was easily visible under the thin white sheets that had been place over him.

"Argus, you can go. I'd like a minute alone with . . . the new guy," I mumbled. Argus nodded and me before he left the room, the door closing with just a click. I walked over to Percy and s on the edge of his bed. "Why did it have to be the bull?"

I felt tears brim my eyes as I looked at the boy. His mom disappeared before his eyes and mine. He must be so confused.

I rubbed his head a bit just because it felt normal. He smiled a bit in his sleep and began to mumble something I couldn't hear. I sighed as I heard Annabeth and Chiron in his office a few doors down. Don't ask how or why but my hearing is amazing. My sight, not a good, but good enough, my smell is amazing, and my other senses are pretty sharp too. Just some sight issues. Especially since I've been seeing things through someone else's eyes. I leaned down and kissed his forehead softly before slipping out of the infirmary and returning to my cabin.

I was in no mood to deal with the fact that the only family I've got is knocked out in the infirmary.

* * *

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt.

On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry.

My hand was so weak I almost dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it.

"Careful," a familiar voice said.

Grover was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he hadn't slept in a week.

Under one arm, he cradled a shoe box. He was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMP HALF-BLOOD. Just plain old Grover, Not the goat boy.

So maybe I'd had a nightmare. Maybe my mom was okay. We were still on vacation, and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. And...

"You saved my life," Grover said. "I... well, the least I could do ... I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, he placed the shoe box in my lap.

Inside was a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood. It hadn't been a nightmare.

"The Minotaur," I said.

"Urn, Percy, it isn't a good idea-"

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" I demanded. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull."

Grover shifted uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"My mom. Is she really ..."

He looked down.

I stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight.

My mother was gone. The whole world should be black and cold. Nothing should look beautiful.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffled. "I'm a failure. I'm- I'm the worst satyr in the world."

He moaned, stomping his foot so hard it came off. I mean, the Converse hi-top came off. The inside was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole.

"Oh, Styx!" he mumbled.

Thunder rolled across the clear sky.

As he struggled to get his hoof back in the fake foot, I thought, Well, that settles it.

Grover was a satyr. I was ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I'd find tiny horns on his head.

But I was too miserable to care that satyrs existed, or even minotaur's. All that meant was my mom really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

I was alone. An orphan. I would have to live with ... Smelly Gabe?

No. That would never happen. I would live on the streets first. I would pretend I was seventeen and join the army. I'd do something.

*You'd stay at camp, as a year rounder like me. We could finally be a family,* Marisol's voice echoed in my mind.

*What do you mean, be a family?*

I was met with mental silence.

Grover was still sniffling. The poor kid- poor goat, satyr, whatever- looked as if he expected to be hit.

I said, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to _protect _you."

"Did my mother ask you to protect me?"

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least... I was."

"But why ..." I suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover said. "Here." He helped me hold my glass and put the straw to my lips.

I recoiled at the taste, because I was expecting apple juice. It wasn't that at all. It was chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies.

And not just any cookies- my mom's homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, my whole body felt warm and good, full of energy. My grief didn't go away, but I felt as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was small, and told me everything was going to be okay.

*Tasted good.*

*What did you mean by―*

*Forget what I said. It's not important.*

Before I knew it, I'd drained the glass. I stared into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asked.

I nodded.

"What did it taste like?" He sounded so wistful, I felt guilty.

"Sorry," I said. "I should've let you taste."

His eyes got wide. "No! That's not what I meant. I just... wondered."

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I said. "My mom's. Home made."

He sighed. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I could throw Nancy Bobofit a hundred yards."

"That's good," he said. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff"

"What do you mean?"

He took the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it were dynamite, and set it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting."

The porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse.

My legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. Grover offered to carry the Minotaur horn, but I held on to it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I wasn't going to let it go.

As we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath.

* * *

I remember when I saw camp from the big house when I was five. I was with Luca and Lizzy and it was sunset. We were sitting on the porch joking around and as the sun went down we just stopped and stared. Lizzy began glowing, like _glowing_ and she said that her father had given his blessing. We had been a family in that moment. Seeing the camp through Percy's eyes just made me remember the good memories that I'd never want to forget. I wish Lizzy and Luca were here. I know they'd help me figure everything out.

* * *

We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture" an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena" except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun.

In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who'd spoon-fed me popcorn-flavored pudding was leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels- what do you call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park.

He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he would've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I got the feeling this guy could've out-gambled even my step father.

"That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron..."

He pointed at the guy whose back was to me.

First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" I cried.

The Latin teacher turned and smiled at me. His eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers _B_.

"Ah, good, Percy," he said. "Now we have four for pinochle."

He offered me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh, thanks." I scooted a little farther away from him because, _if _there was one thing I had learned from living with Gabe, it was how to tell when an adult has been hitting the happy juice. If Mr. D was a stranger to alcohol, I was a satyr.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl.

She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now."

Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron."

She was probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

She glanced at the minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. I imagined she was going to say, _You killed a minotaur! _or _Wow, you're so awesome! _or something like that.

Instead she said, "You drool when you sleep."

Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

* * *

Annabeth came rushing into cabin eleven and her eyes met mine. She gave me a nod and I smiled.

"What did you say to him?" I whispered as she came over.

"You drool in your sleep."

I began giggling as I thought over what he'd wanted her to say. Yeah, he'd been way off.

"Come on, I'll help you set up a spot for him by my bed. Jackson and I need to talk."

* * *

"So," I said, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," the ex-Mr. Brunner said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay." Totally confused, I looked at the director. "And Mr. D ... does that stand for something?"

Mr. D stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at me like I'd just belched loudly. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"I must say, Percy," Chiron-Brunner broke in, "I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"House call?"

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to ... ah, take a leave of absence."

I tried to remember the beginning of the school year. It seemed like so long ago, but I did have a fuzzy memory of there being another Latin teacher my first week at Yancy. Then, without explanation, he had disappeared and Mr. Brunner had taken the class.

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" I asked.

Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first.

We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Grover," Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

"You _do _know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously.

"I'm afraid not," I said.

"I'm afraid not, _sir_," he said.

"Sir," I repeated. I was liking the camp director less and less.

"Well," he told me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all _civilized _young men to know the rules."

"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron said.

"Please," I said, "what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brunner-Chiron" why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"

Mr. D snorted. "I asked the same question."

The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile.

Chiron smiled at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was, _I _was his star student. He expected _me _to have the right answer.

"Percy," he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?'

"She said ..." I remembered her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. "She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I asked.

He explained, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."

"Orientation film?" I asked.

"No," Chiron decided. "Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know-" he pointed to the horn in the shoe box- "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods- the forces you call the Greek gods- are very much alive."

I stared at the others around the table.

I waited for somebody to yell, _Not! _But all I got was Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackled as he tallied up his points.

"Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully.

"Wait," I told Chiron. "You're telling me there's such a thing as god."

"Well, now," Chiron said. "God- capital _G_, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."

"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about-"

"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."

"Smaller?"

"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class."

"Zeus," I said. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them."

And there it was again" distant thunder on a cloud less day.

"Young man," said Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you."

"But they're stories," I said. "They're- myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Science!" Mr. D scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"-I flinched when he said my real name, which I never told anybody- "what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals- they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come _so-o-o _far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."

I wasn't liking Mr. D much, but there was something about the way he called me mortal, as if... he wasn't. It was enough to put a lump in my throat, to suggest why Grover was dutifully minding his cards, chewing his soda can, and keeping his mouth shut.

"Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that _immortal _means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

I was about to answer, off the top of my head, that it sounded like a pretty good deal, but the tone of Chiron's voice made me hesitate.

"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," I said.

"Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that some day people would call _you _a myth, just created to explain how little boys can get over losing their mothers?"

My heart pounded. He was trying to make me angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. I said, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."

"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you."

Grover said, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe.'"

He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine.

* * *

"He doesn't believe, does he?" Annabeth asked. She probably saw the stricken look on my face.

"Yeah, and Mr. D is talking about having a god blow him to bits. Oh gods, Percy needs to shut his mouth soon or he'll be Dolphined."

* * *

My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up.

"Mr. D," he warned, "your restrictions."

Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise.

"Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!"

More thunder.

Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game.

Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."

"A wood nymph," I repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space.

"Yes," Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time- well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away- the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha.' Absolutely unfair."

Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid.

"And ..." I stammered, "your father is ..."

_"Di immortals, _Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course."

I ran through D names from Greek mythology. Wine. The skin of a tiger. The satyrs that all seemed to work here. The way Grover cringed, as if Mr. D were his master.

"You're Dionysus," I said. "The god of wine."

Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?"

"Y-yes, Mr. D."

"Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?"

"You're a god."

"Yes, child."

"A god. You."

He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I knew that if I pushed him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a strait-jacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life.

"Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly.

"No. No, sir."

The fire died a little. He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."

I thought Mr. D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He got up, and Grover rose, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, _again, _about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners."

He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

"Will Grover be okay?" I asked Chiron.

Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been ... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," I said. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?"

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like ... in _America_?"

"Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West."

"The what?"

"Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know- or as I hope you know, since you passed my course- the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps- Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on- but the same forces, the same gods."

"And then they died."

* * *

"He thinks they died," I mumbled as I sat in my bed with Annabeth. She shook her head and began mumbling.

"He'd be so easy to beat in a fight, I feel bad for you. Having to take care of him. Do you think that it'd affect you if he got hurt? Or killed? I mean with the mental link and all," she asked. She may be wisdom's daughter but she can't study telepathy like this and connection like this in books and expect to get it like she's experienced it.

"He's not going to die, Annabeth. He's stronger than that," and she knew to kept her mouth shut because I never call her Annabeth unless I'm serious.

* * *

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture.

People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not- and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either- America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

It was all too much, especially the fact that _I _seemed to be included in Chiron's _we, _as if I were part of some club.

"Who are you, Chiron? Who ... who am I?"

Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down.

"Who are you?" he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to 'meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be sores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stared at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

* * *

I looked at Annabeth, a light of excitement and fear in my eyes.

"They're coming, quick, go to the porch."

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	7. Chapter 6

Hey. I'm back for the second time today. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me forty eight days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to NightmarishStar and Helios Spirit . Thanks for following :)

Here's where they meet. I think.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**I BECOME SUPREME LORD OF THE BATHROOM**

* * *

Once I got over the fact that my Latin teacher was a horse, we had a nice tour, though I was careful not to walk behind him. I'd done pooper-scooper patrol in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade a few times, and, I'm sorry, I did not trust Chiron's back end the way I trusted his front.

We passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn I was carrying. Another said, "That's _him_."

Most of the campers were older than me. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. I wasn't normally shy, but the way they stared at me made me uncomfortable. I felt like they were expecting me to do a flip or something.

*Nah, just to jump off a Minotaur like a gymnast or some other stupid shix*

I looked back at the farmhouse. It was a lot bigger than I'd realized—four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort. I was checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something caught my eye, a shadow in the uppermost window of the attic gable. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I got the distinct impression I was being watched.

"What's up there?" I asked Chiron.

He looked where I was pointing, and his smile faded. "Just the attic."

"Somebody lives there?"

"No," he said with finality. "Not a single living thing."

*_Living_*

I got the feeling he was being truthful. But I was also sure something had moved that curtain.

"Come along, Percy," Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. "Lots to see."

We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.

Chiron told me the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. "It pays our expenses," he explained. "And the strawberries take almost no effort."

He said Mr. D had this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they just went crazy when he was around. It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead.

I watched the satyr playing his pipe. His music was causing lines of bugs to leave the strawberry patch in every direction, like refugees fleeing a fire. I wondered if Grover could work that kind of magic with music.

I wondered if he was still inside the farmhouse, getting chewed out by Mr. D.

"Grover won't get in too much trouble, will he?" I asked Chiron. "I mean ... he was a good protector. Really."

Chiron sighed. He shed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horses back like a saddle. "Grover has big dreams, Percy. Perhaps bigger than are reasonable.

To reach his goal, he must first demonstrate great courage by succeeding as a keeper, finding a new camper and bringing him safely to Half-Blood Hill."

"But he did that!"

"I might agree with you," Chiron said. "But it is not my place to judge. Dionysus and the Council of Cloven Elders must decide. I'm afraid they might not see this assignment as a success. After all, Grover lost you in New York. Then there's the unfortunate ... ah ... fate of your mother. And the fact that Grover was unconscious when you dragged him over the property line. The council might question whether this shows any courage on Grover's part."

I wanted to protest. None of what happened was Grover's fault. I also felt really, really guilty. If I hadn't given Grover the slip at the bus station, he might not have gotten in trouble.

"He'll get a second chance, won't he?"

Chiron winced. "I'm afraid that _was _Grover's second chance, Percy. The council was not anxious to give him another, either, after what happened the first time, five years ago. Olympus knows, I advised him to wait longer before trying again. He's still so small for his age..."

"How old is he?"

"Oh, twenty-eight."

"What! And he's in sixth grade?"

"Satyrs mature half as fast as humans, Percy. Grover has been the equivalent of a middle school student for the past six years."

"That's horrible."

"Quite," Chiron agreed. "At any rate, Grover is a late bloomer, even by satyr standards, and not yet very accomplished at woodland magic.

Alas, he was anxious to pursue his dream. Perhaps now he will find some other career..."

"That's not fair," I said. "What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?"

Chiron looked away quickly. "Let's move along, shall we?"

But I wasn't quite ready to let the subject drop. Something had occurred to me when Chiron talked about my mother's fate, as if he were intentionally avoiding the word _death. _The beginnings of an idea—a tiny, hopeful fire—started forming in my mind.

"Chiron," I said. "If the gods and Olympus and all that are real ..."

"Yes, child?"

"Does that mean the Underworld is real, too?"

* * *

I choked on some apple juice I had been drinking and began focusing on his thoughts. No way did he want to . . . oh gods. He's going to be dead by the solstice. Ugh, there goes my only shot at family.

* * *

Chiron's expression darkened.

"Yes, child." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "There is a place where spirits go after death. But for now ... until we know more ... I would urge you to put that out of your mind."

"What do you mean, 'until we know more'?"

"Come, Percy. Let's see the woods."

As we got closer, I realized how huge the forest was. It took up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.

Chiron said, "The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go armed."

"Stocked with what?" I asked. "Armed with what?"

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield?"

"My own—?"

"No," Chiron said. "I don't suppose you do. I think a size five will do. I'll visit the armory later."

I wanted to ask what kind of summer camp had an armory, but there was too much else to think about, so the tour continued. We saw the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables (which Chiron didn't seem to like very much), the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena where Chiron said they held sword and spear fights.

"Sword and spear fights?" I asked.

"Cabin challenges and all that," he explained. "Not lethal. Usually. Oh, yes, and there's the mess hall."

Chiron pointed to an outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea. There were a dozen stone picnic tables. No roof. No walls.

"What do you do when it rains?" I asked.

Chiron looked at me as if I'd gone a little weird.

"We still have to eat, don't we?" I decided to drop the subject.

Finally, he showed me the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side. And they were without doubt the most bizarre collection of buildings I'd ever seen.

Except for the fact that each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they looked absolutely nothing alike. Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops (which were more my speed).

In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined firepit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick.

The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin one was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmered like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them.

Cabin two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.

"Zeus and Hera?" I guessed.

"Correct," Chiron said.

"Their cabins look empty."

"Several of the cabins are. That's true. No one ever stays in one or two."

Okay. So each cabin had a different god, like a mascot.

Twelve cabins for the twelve Olympians. But why would some be empty?

I stopped in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three.

It wasn't high and mighty like cabin one, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor. I peeked inside the open doorway and Chiron said, "Oh, I wouldn't do that!"

Before he could pull me back, I caught the salty scent of the interior, like the wind on the shore at Montauk. The interior walls glowed like abalone. There were six empty bunk beds with silk sheets turned down. But there was no sign anyone had ever slept there. The place felt so sad and lonely, I was glad when Chiron put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Come along, Percy."

*It's my favorite cabin. It's calming, but I only ever snuck in once. After Luke caught me he said I couldn't go in there anymore,* Marisol grumbled.

*Who's Luke? Why haven't I seen you yet? What do you look like?*

*You'll see.*

Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers.

Number five was bright red—a real nasty paint job, as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists.

The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar's head hung over the doorway, and its eyes seemed to follow me. Inside I could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared. The loudest was a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen. She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on me and gave me an evil sneer. She reminded me of Nancy Bobofit, though the camper girl was much bigger and tougher looking, and her hair was long and stringy, and brown instead of red.

*Steer clear of Clare and her siblings. No her real name isn't Clare but that's what I call her.*

I kept walking, trying to stay clear of Chiron's hooves. "We haven't seen any other centaurs," I observed.

"No," said Chiron sadly. "My kinsmen are a wild and barbaric folk, I'm afraid. You might encounter them in the wilderness, or at major sporting events. But you won't see any here."

"You said your name was Chiron. Are you really ..."

He smiled down at me. _"The _Chiron from the stories? Trainer of Hercules and all that? Yes, Percy, I am."

"But, shouldn't you be dead?"

Chiron paused, as if the question intrigued him. "I honestly don't know about _should _be. The truth is, I _can't _be dead. You see, eons ago the gods granted my wish. I could continue the work I loved. I could be a teacher of heroes as long as humanity needed me. I gained much from that wish ... and I gave up much. But I'm still here, so I can only assume I'm still needed."

I thought about being a teacher for three thousand years. It wouldn't have made my Top Ten Things to Wish For list.

"Doesn't it ever get boring?"

"No, no," he said. "Horribly depressing, at times, but never boring."

"Why depressing?"

Chiron seemed to turn hard of hearing again.

"Oh, look," he said. "Annabeth is waiting for us."

The blond girl I'd met at the Big House was reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, number eleven.

*Annabeth. Remember her name or I'll hurt you kid. She's my best friend.*

When we reached her, she looked me over critically, like she was still thinking about how much I drooled.

I tried to see what she was reading, but I couldn't make out the title. I thought my dyslexia was acting up. Then I realized the title wasn't even English. The letters looked Greek to me. I mean, literally Greek.

*No because it's gonna be Spanish right? It is Greek smart one.*

There were pictures of temples and statues and different kinds of columns, like those in an architecture book.

"Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have masters' archery class at noon. Would you take Percy from here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cabin eleven," Chiron told me, gesturing toward the doorway. "Make yourself at home."

Out of all the cabins, eleven looked the most like a regular old summer camp cabin, with the emphasis on _old. _The threshold was worn down, the brown paint peeling. Over the doorway was one of those doctor's symbols, a winged pole with two snakes wrapped around it. What did they call it... ?

A caduceus.

Inside, it was packed with people, both boys and girls, way more than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags were spread all over on the floor. It looked like a gym where the Red Cross had set up an evacuation center.

Chiron didn't go in. The door was too low for him. But when the campers saw him they all stood and bowed respectfully.

"Well, then," Chiron said. "Good luck, Percy. I'll see you at dinner."

He galloped away toward the archery range.

I stood in the doorway, looking at the kids. They weren't bowing anymore. They were staring at me, sizing me up. I knew this routine. I'd gone through it at enough schools.

"Well?" Annabeth prompted. "Go on."

So naturally I tripped coming in the door and made a total fool of myself.

There were some snickers from the campers, but none of them said anything.

Annabeth announced, "Percy Jackson, meet cabin eleven."

"Regular or undetermined?" somebody asked.

I didn't know what to say, but Annabeth said, "Undetermined."

Everybody groaned.

"Oh shut up will ya?" a voice I recognized called from somewhere I couldn't see. Marisol. Geez, I swear it's like she doesn't want to see me if she's hiding.

A guy who was a little older than the rest came forward.

"Now, now, campers. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there."

The guy was about nineteen, and he looked pretty cool. He was tall and muscular, with short-cropped sandy hair and a friendly smile. He wore an orange tank top, cutoffs, sandals, and a leather necklace with five different-colored clay beads. The only thing unsettling about his appearance was a thick white scar that ran from just beneath his right eye to his jaw, like an old knife slash.

"This is Luke," Annabeth said, and her voice sounded different somehow. I glanced over and could've sworn she was blushing.

She saw me looking, and her expression hardened again. "He's your counselor for now."

"For now?" I asked.

"You're undetermined," Luke explained patiently. "They don't know what cabin to put you in, so you're here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers."

I looked at the tiny section of floor they'd given me by a bed. I had nothing to put there to mark it as my own, no luggage, no clothes, no sleeping bag. Just the Minotaur's horn. I thought about setting that down, but then I remembered that Hermes was also the god of thieves.

I looked around at the campers' faces, some sullen and suspicious, some grinning stupidly, some eyeing me as if they were waiting for a chance to pick my pockets. Then there was the girl from before sitting on the bed by my spot. She look startlingly familiar, but Marisol sounded more brunette or redhead to me.

"How long will I be here?" I asked.

"Good question," Luke said. "Until you're determined."

"How long will that take?"

The campers all laughed.

"Come on," Annabeth told me. "I'll show you the volleyball court."

"I've already seen it."

"Come on." She grabbed my wrist and dragged me outside. I could hear the kids of cabin eleven laughing behind me.

When we were a few feet away, Annabeth said, "Jackson, you have to do better than that."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, "I can't believe I thought you were the one."

"What's your problem?" I was getting angry now. "All I know is, I kill some bull guy"

"Don't talk like that!" Annabeth told me. "You know how many kids at this camp wish they'd had your chance?"

"To get killed?"

"To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?

I shook my head. "Look, if the thing I fought really was _the _Minotaur, the same one in the stories ..."

"Yes."

"Then there's only one."

"Yes."

"And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So ..."

"Monsters don't die, Percy. They can be killed. But they don't die.".

"Oh, thanks. That clears it up."

"They don't have souls, like you and me. You can dispel them for a while, maybe even for a whole lifetime if you're lucky. But they are primal forces. Chiron calls them archer types. Eventually, they re-form."

I thought about Mrs. Dodd's. "You mean if I killed one, accidentally, with a sword—"

"The Fur ... I mean, your math teacher. That's right. She's still out there. You just made her very, very mad."

"How did you know about Mrs. Dodd's?"

"You talk in your sleep."

"You almost called her something. A Fury? They're Hades' torturers, right?"

Annabeth glanced nervously at the ground, as if she expected it to open up and swallow her.

"You shouldn't call them by name, even here. We call them the Kindly Ones, if we have to speak of them at all."

"Look, is there anything we _can _say without it thundering?" I sounded whiny, even to myself, but right then I didn't care. "Why do I have to stay in cabin eleven, anyway? Why is everybody so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there."

I pointed to the first few cabins, and Annabeth turned pale. "You don't just choose a cabin, Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or ... your parent."

She stared at me, waiting for me to get it.

"My mom is Sally Jackson," I said. "She works at the candy store in Grand Central Station. At least, she used to."

"I'm sorry about your mom, Percy. But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about your other parent. Your dad."

"He's dead. I never knew him."

Annabeth sighed. Clearly, she'd had this conversation before with other kids.

"Your father's not dead, Percy."

"How can you say that? You know him?"

"No, of course not."

"Then how can you say—"

"Because I know _you._ You wouldn't be here if you weren't one of us."

"You don't know anything about me."

"No?" She raised an eyebrow. "I bet you moved around from school to school. I bet you were kicked out of a lot of them."

"How—"

"Diagnosed with dyslexia. Probably ADHD, too."

I tried to swallow my embarrassment. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Taken together, it's almost a sure sign. The letters float off the page when you read, right? That's because your mind is hardwired for ancient Greek. And the ADHD—you're impulsive, can't sit still in the classroom. That's your battle field reflexes. In a real fight, they'd keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that's because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal's. Of course the teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don't want you seeing them for what they are."

"You sound like ... you went through the same thing?"

"Most of the kids here did. If you weren't like us, you couldn't have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar."

"Ambrosia and nectar."

"The food and drink we were giving you to make you better. That stuff would've killed a normal kid. It would've turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and you'd be dead. Face it. You're a half-blood."

A half-blood.

I was reeling with so many questions I didn't know where to start.

The girl from the bed by my spot walked out of the cabin and looked at me, her green eyes meeting my own.

"Percy," she whispered.

* * *

I couldn't believe he hadn't figured out I was me. Excuse me, I'm not a redhead, and I'm no brunette.

"Percy," I whispered as I stared at him, standing right outside of the cabin. *Percy, do you know who I am?*

"You're Marisol, aren't you?" he asked me. I nodded and glared before stomping up to him and poking him in the chest. We were the same height, he had maybe half an inch over me, and I poked him again. "I am _not _a redhead or a brunette you goof."

"Woah, okay. You have black hair no need to kill me because I didn't know that," he said with his hands up in surrender. I smiled at him and he smiled right on back. A crooked smile for a crooked smile. Percy and I grew up together and knew each other pretty well, but we didn't show it.

I couldn't help it when I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. It had been over twelve years since I last saw this goof. Twelve years before mom gave me up, and separated me from him, my brother. Not that he knew that. Annabeth cleared her throat and I decided to completely ignore her. Yeah, I'm _such_ a good friend.

* * *

Then a husky voice yelled, "Well! A newbie!"

I looked over. The big girl from the ugly red cabin was sauntering toward us. She had three other girls behind her, all big and ugly and mean looking like her, all wearing camo jackets.

"Clarisse," Annabeth sighed. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"

"Sure, Miss Princess," the big girl said. "So I can run you through with it Friday night."

_''Erre es korakas!"_ Annabeth said, which I somehow under stood was Greek for 'Go to the crows!' though I had a feeling it was a worse curse than it sounded. "You don't stand a chance."

"We'll pulverize you," Clarisse said, but her eye twitched. Perhaps she wasn't sure she could follow through on the threat. She turned toward me, and Marisol's hand gripped my wrist. "Who's this little runt?"

"Percy Jackson," Marisol said, "meet Clarisse, Daughter of Ares."

I blinked. "Like ... the war god?"

Clarisse sneered. "You got a problem with that?"

"No," I said, recovering my wits. "It explains the bad smell."

Clarisse growled. "We got an initiation ceremony for newbie's, Prissy."

"Percy."

"Whatever. Come on, I'll show you."

"Clarisse—" Annabeth and Marisol tried to say.

"Stay out of it, wise girl, and watch your step Mari, you don't want to get on the Ares cabin's badside."

Annabeth looked pained, but she did stay out of it, while Marisol glared but kept her mouth shut, and I didn't really want their help. I was the new kid. I had to earn my own rep.

I handed Annabeth my minotaur horn and got ready to fight, but before I knew it, Clarisse had me by the neck and was dragging me toward a cinder-block building that I knew immediately was the bathroom.

* * *

I held my head in pain as Annabeth and I followed Clare and her sisters toward the bathroom. I could barely breathe and it felt as though my hair was being torn out by the roots.

* * *

I was kicking and punching. I'd been in plenty of fights before, but this big girl Clarisse had hands like iron. She dragged me into the girls' bathroom. There was a line of toilets on one side and a line of shower stalls down the other. It smelled just like any public bathroom, and I was thinking—as much as I _could _think with Clarisse ripping my hair out—that if this place belonged to the gods, they should've been able to afford classier johns.

Clarisse's friends were all laughing, and I was trying to find the strength I'd used to fight the Minotaur, but it just wasn't there.

"Like he's 'Big Three' material," Clarisse said as she pushed me toward one of the toilets. "Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking."

Her friends snickered.

* * *

I growled as my eyes narrowed. Clare was crossing the line. Of course Percy was Big Three material. I grew up with this kid, I knew him well enough to know that. I stood with Annabeth in the corner. Why wasn't she doing something? Why wasn't _I _doing something?

_Because all will end in your brother's favor_, a voice whispered in my head_. Dad, _I thought, stunned.

* * *

Annabeth stood in the corner, watching through her fingers. Marisol stood with her, a stunned look on her face and a faraway expression in her eyes.

Clarisse bent me over on my knees and started pushing my head toward the toilet bowl. It reeked like rusted pipes and, well, like what goes into toilets. I strained to keep my head up. I was looking at the scummy water, thinking, I will not go into that. I won't.

Then something happened. I felt a tug in the pit of my stomach. I heard the plumbing rumble, the pipes shudder. Clarisse's grip on my hair loosened. Water shot out of the toilet, making an arc straight over my head, and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the bathroom tiles with Clarisse screaming behind me.

I turned just as water blasted out of the toilet again, hitting Clarisse straight in the face so hard it pushed her down onto her butt.

The water stayed on her like the spray from a fire hose, pushing her backward into a shower stall.

She struggled, gasping, and her friends started coming toward her.

But then the other toilets exploded, too, and six more streams of toilet water blasted them back. The showers acted up, too, and together all the fixtures sprayed the camouflage girls right out of the bathroom, spinning them around like pieces of garbage being washed away.

As soon as they were out the door, I felt the tug in my gut lessen, and the water shut off as quickly as it had started.

* * *

I closed my eyes tight as the water works began. There had been this wrenching in my gut, kind of like guilt, except I wasn't guilty. I heard Clare gargling and gasping, her sisters panicking and so on, but I never felt the water hit me. For that, I was definitely grateful.

* * *

The entire bathroom was flooded. Annabeth hadn't been spared.

She was dripping wet, but she hadn't been pushed out the door. She was standing in exactly the same place, staring at me in shock.

I looked down and realized I was sitting in one of the only dry spots in the whole room. There was a circle of dry floor around me. I didn't have one drop of water on my clothes. Nothing.

I stood up, my legs shaky. Then I saw Marisol. She was dry, she had her eyes shut, and the floor around her had a circle of dry tiles. She was dry, and in a circle. Just like me. What?

Annabeth said, "How did you ..."

"I don't know."

She turned to Mari. "Why aren't you …"

"Figure it out."

We walked to the door. Outside, Clarisse and her friends were sprawled in the mud, and a bunch of other campers had gathered around to gawk. Clarisse's hair was flattened across her face. Her camouflage jacket was sopping and she smelled like sewage. She gave me a look of absolute hatred. "You are dead, new boy. You are totally dead."

I probably should have let it go, but I said, "You want to gargle with toilet water again, Clarisse? Close your mouth."

Her friends had to hold her back. They dragged her toward cabin five, while the other campers made way to avoid her flailing feet.

Annabeth stared at me and Mari was busy staring at something in a silver locket around her neck. I couldn't tell whether Annabeth was just grossed out or angry at me for dousing her, and if Mari was about to cry or cheer because the look on her face said either.

"What?" I demanded. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," Annabeth said, "that I want you on my team for capture the flag."

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**I'm not sure I liked this. Maybe I'll redo it... Depends on what you think.**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	8. Chapter 7

Hey. I'm back for the second time today. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me forty eight days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to NightmarishStar and Helios Spirit . Thanks for following :)

Here's where they meet. I think.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**My Dinner Goes up in Smoke**

* * *

Word of the bathroom incident spread immediately. Wherever I went, campers pointed at me and murmured something about toilet water. Or maybe they were just staring at Annabeth, who was still pretty much dripping wet.

* * *

After the bathroom incident I decided I needed to do something important. I left Percy with Annabeth and rushed over to the Hermes cabin. I sighed as I saw the only person that wasn't in this cabin was Percy. Did this place always have to be so packed?!

I was asked a million questions by the cabin members and I decided that _nicey nice Marisol _has left the building.

"I'm not in the mood for questions. Bother me, and I'll run you through with a sword," I said simply before I crouched in front of my bed. The stunned silence that filled the room made me smirk. I loved surprising people.

"Mari, you alright?" Luke called from his bed. I sat up a bit on my heels and looked at him.

"Just fine," I said with a smile before I jumped up and landed on my side instead of my heels. I slid under my bed and pulled the sheets down so that nobody could see under my bed. "Anyone comes down here, I'll hurt you."

I pulled out my dagger and pried up about five floor boards. I piled them up neatly and hopped into the space under my bed. It's bigger than you could imagine seeing as it leads to the tunneling under the camp. The tunnels under the Hermes cabin lead to the cabin eleven bunker. Don't ask, I'll probably explain later.

* * *

She showed me a few more places: the metal shop (where kids were forging their own swords), the arts-and-crafts room (where satyrs were sandblasting a giant marble statue of a goat-man), and the climbing wall, which actually consisted of two facing walls that shook violently, dropped boulders, sprayed lava, and clashed together if you didn't get to the top fast enough.

Finally we returned to the canoeing lake, where the trail led back to the cabins.

"I've got training to do," Annabeth said flatly. "Dinner's at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall."

"Annabeth, I'm sorry about the toilets."

"Whatever."

"It wasn't my fault."

She looked at me skeptically, and I realized it _was _my fault. I'd made water shoot out of the bathroom fixtures. I didn't understand how. But the toilets had responded to me. I had become one with the plumbing.

"You need to talk to the Oracle," Annabeth said.

"Who?"

"Not who. What. The Oracle. I'll ask Chiron."

I stared into the lake, wishing somebody would give me a straight answer for once.

* * *

I walked for what felt like forever until I came across some wooden doors. They were about fifty feet in front of me, and I knew this is where the tricks began. I was in the center of the hall, and so I moved all the way to the left. With my side against the wall, I took five long strides forward and jumped up, grabbing a metal bar that was hanging from the ceiling, or . . . whatever this was since it was underground. A swear flew past, beneath me, and thudded into the wall five or so feet behind me. I jumped down from the bar and side stepped three feet to my right before falling flat on my stomach. A metal blade hissed out of the wall and connected to the other wall. That was designed to slice apart anybody who _didn't _know what they were doing. Five seconds later it came back out. This happened once more, and then it was clear. I went prone, or whatever it's called where you crawl using your elbows and knees. I got up five feet later and continues walking, watching my step, until I stepped on a tile and spikes shot out of the ground.

"_Di immortales_. Forgot that bit," I muttered to myself. Two feet ahead was a tile that was different from the rest because the stripes were diagonally aligned instead of horizontally. Sadly, the tile was in the ceiling and rings hung on chains in the ceiling. I sighed as I looked around for the foothold that had to be here somewhere. I found it and sighed. It was about three inches wide, and I had to use that as a boost to get to the rings. After a few tries I finally managed and had to sorta do this like monkey bars. I yelped as I miscalculated a swing and barely managed to grab the ring ahead of me. Now I was stuck because if I let go of one I wouldn't have enough swing to get to the next. The tile was so close. Frick. I let go of the ring behind me and swung. There was a few inches between me and the tile. Sadly, I couldn't use some kind of kick off because the rings had led me to the center of the room, directly above a spike. I swung for a bit, feeling my arms get weak, and then decided what the heck. I decided kicking might help, as though I were on a swing.

I slammed my fist onto the panel and the spikes went back into the ground. I fell the seven feet it took to get to the ground and smiled. One more thing to get by. The snakes. Yeah, Hermes sure does know how to set up security. Stupid trickster. I had to step lightly or else I might step on a snake line, which lures snakes down here. After a few more feet I was finally at the door, and I shoved them open to reveal dusty bunker eleven. My thinking place that nobody could ever get to. Somehow, I'd been better at maneuvering the traps when I was a short little girl.

* * *

I wasn't expecting anybody to be looking back at me from the bottom, so my heart skipped a beat when I noticed two teenage girls sitting cross-legged at the base of the pier, about twenty feet below.

They wore blue jeans and shimmering green T-shirts, and their brown hair floated loose around their shoulders as minnows darted in and out. They smiled and waved as if I were a long-lost friend.

I didn't know what else to do. I waved back.

"Don't encourage them," Annabeth warned. "Naiads are terrible flirts."

"Naiads," I repeated, feeling completely overwhelmed. "That's it. I want to go home now."

Annabeth frowned. "Don't you get it, Percy? You _are _home. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us."

"You mean, mentally disturbed kids?"

"I mean _not human. _Not totally human, anyway. Half-human."

"Half-human and half-what?"

"I think you know."

I didn't want to admit it, but I was afraid I did. I felt a tingling in my limbs, a sensation I sometimes felt when my mom talked about my dad.

"God," I said. "Half-god."

* * *

There was a few caduceus around the wide room, and several stolen items. Tables and chairs were everywhere with battle plans and traps designed by Hermes kids. I shook my head and went to my desk where I had a few knives decked out. A cork board was on the wall opposite me and I decided to try my lucky with the knives I'd never gotten to use. Definitely gives me some thinking time.

* * *

Annabeth nodded. "Your father isn't dead, Percy. He's one of the Olympians."

"That's ... crazy."

"Is it? What's the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they've changed their habits in the last few millennia?"

"But those are just—" I almost said _myths _again. Then I remembered Chiron's warning that in two thousand years, _I _might be considered a myth.

"But if all the kids here are half-gods—"

"Demigods," Annabeth said. "That's the official term. Or half-bloods."

"Then who's your dad?"

Her hands tightened around the pier railing. I got the feeling I'd just trespassed on a sensitive subject.

"My dad is a professor at West Point," she said. "I haven't seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history."

"He's human."

"What? You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?"

"Who's your mom, then?"

"Cabin six."

"Meaning?"

Annabeth straightened. "Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle."

Okay, I thought. Why not?

"And my dad?"

"Undetermined," Annabeth said, "like I told you before. Nobody knows."

"Except my mother. She knew."

"Maybe not, Percy. Gods don't always reveal their identities."

"My dad would have. He loved her."

Annabeth gave me a cautious look. She didn't want to burst my bubble.

* * *

"Dad, why did you let that oversized meat head take Percy's mom? Don't you see how torn up he is over this? He's thinking of the impossible just to get her back, all because you couldn't help us! Why didn't you bring him sooner? Ya know, on a day when there _wasn't _a stinky minotaur on the loose?!" I shouted. "Now your ass is in trouble and we won't help you. Now I get why Luke resents you all so much."

There were knives in the cork board, and I felt my eyes widened at the symbol they had made. It was not a symbol that we honored at camp. It was a symbol that could only mean one thing. I ran out of the bunker and shut the doors before hitting a switch by the doors and calling off the traps. I didn't reset them when I left, knowing I'd have to come back sooner or later. I had to find Percy. I had to make sure nothing happened to him.

* * *

"Maybe you're right. Maybe he'll send a sign. That's the only way to know for sure: your father has to send you a sign claiming you as his son. Sometimes it happens."

"You mean sometimes it doesn't?"

Annabeth ran her palm along the rail. "The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don't always ... Well, sometimes they don't care about us, Percy. They ignore us."

I thought about some of the kids I'd seen in the Hermes cabin, teenagers who looked sullen and depressed, as if they were waiting for a call that would never come. I'd known kids like that at Yancy Academy, shuffled off to boarding school by rich parents who didn't have the time to deal with them. But gods should behave better.

"So I'm stuck here," I said. "That's it? For the rest of my life?"

"It depends," Annabeth said. "Some campers only stay the summer. If you're a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you're probably not a real powerful force.

The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year. But for some of us, it's too dangerous to leave. We're year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters.

They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they'll ignore us until we're old enough to cause trouble—about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off. A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Believe me, if I told you the names, you'd know them. Some don't even realize they're demigods. But very, very few are like that."

"So monsters can't get in here?"

Annabeth shook her head. "Not unless they're intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the inside."

"Why would anybody want to summon a monster?"

"Practice fights. Practical jokes."

"Practical jokes?"

*The Stolls usually.*

*The who?*

*Never mind.*

"The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm."

"So ... you're a year-rounder?"

Annabeth nodded. From under the collar of her T-shirt she pulled a leather necklace with five clay beads of different colors. It was just like Luke's, except Annabeth's also had a big gold ring strung on it, like a college ring.

"I've been here since I was seven," she said. "Every August, on the last day of summer session, you get a bead for surviving another year. I've been here longer than most of the counselors, and they're all in college. Marisol has been here the longest though."

"Why did you two come so young?"

She twisted the ring on her necklace. "None of your business."

"Oh." I stood there for a minute in uncomfortable silence. "So ... I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?"

*Don't.*

"It would be suicide, but you could, with Mr. D's or Chiron's permission. But they wouldn't give permission until the end of the summer session unless ..."

"Unless?"

"You were granted a quest. But that hardly ever happens. The last time …" Her voice trailed off. I could tell from her tone that the last time hadn't gone well.

"Back in the sick room," I said, "when you were feeding me that stuff—"

"Ambrosia."

"Yeah. You asked me something about the summer solstice."

Annabeth's shoulders tensed. "So you _do _know something?"

"Well... no. Back at my old school, I overheard Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said something like we didn't have much time, because of the deadline. What did that mean?"

She clenched her fists. "I wish I knew. Chiron and the satyrs, they know, but they won't tell me. Something is wrong in Olympus, something pretty major. Last time I was there, everything seemed so _normal_."

"You've been to Olympus?"

"Some of us year-rounders—Luke and Marisol and I and a few others—we took a field trip during winter solstice. That's when the gods have their big annual council."

"But... how did you get there?"

"The Long Island Railroad, of course. You get off at Penn Station. Empire State Building, special elevator to the six hundredth floor." She looked at me like she was sure I must know this already. "You _are _a New Yorker, right?"

"Oh, sure." As far as I knew, there were only a hundred and two floors in the Empire State Building, but I decided not to point that out.

"Right after we visited," Annabeth continued, "the weather got weird, as if the gods had started fighting. A couple of times since, I've overheard satyrs talking. The best I can figure out is that something important was stolen. And if it isn't returned by summer solstice, there's going to be trouble. When you came, I was hoping ... I mean— Athena can get along with just about anybody, except for Ares. And of course she's got the rivalry with Poseidon. But, I mean, aside from that, I thought we could work together. I thought you might know something."

I shook my head. I wished I could help her, but I felt too hungry and tired and mentally overloaded to ask any more questions.

"I've got to get a quest," Annabeth muttered to herself. "I'm _not _too young. If they would just tell me the problem …"

I could smell barbecue smoke coming from somewhere nearby. Annabeth must've heard my stomach growl. She told me to go on, she'd catch me later. I left her on the pier, tracing her finger across the rail as if drawing a battle plan.

Back at cabin eleven, everybody was talking and horsing around, waiting for dinner. For the first time, I noticed that a lot of the campers had similar features: sharp noses, upturned eyebrows, mischievous smiles. They were the kind of kids that teachers would peg as troublemakers. Thankfully, nobody paid much attention to me as I walked over to my spot on the floor and plopped down with my minotaur horn.

The counselor, Luke, came over. He had the Hermes family resemblance, too. It was marred by that scar on his right cheek, but his smile was intact.

"Found you a sleeping bag," he said. "And here, I stole you some toiletries from the camp store."

I couldn't tell if he was kidding about the stealing part.

I said, "Thanks."

"No prob." Luke sat next to me, pushed his back against the wall. "Tough first day?"

"I don't belong here," I said. "I don't even believe in gods."

"Yeah," he said. "That's how we all started. Once you start believing in them? It doesn't get any easier."

The bitterness in his voice surprised me, because Luke seemed like a pretty easygoing guy. He looked like he could handle just about anything.

"So your dad is Hermes?" I asked.

He pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, and for a second I thought he was going to gut me, but he just scraped the mud off the sole of his sandal. "Yeah. Hermes."

"The wing-footed messenger guy."

"That's him. Messengers. Medicine. Travelers, merchants, thieves. Anybody who uses the roads. That's why you're here, enjoying cabin eleven's hospitality. Hermes isn't picky about who he sponsors."

I figured Luke didn't mean to call me a nobody. He just had a lot on his mind.

"You ever meet your dad?" I asked.

"Once."

I waited, thinking that if he wanted to tell me, he'd tell me. Apparently, he didn't. I wondered if the story had anything to do with how he got his scar. Luke looked up and managed a smile. "Don't worry about it, Percy. The campers here, they're mostly good people. After all, we're extended family, right? We take care of each other."

He seemed to understand how lost I felt, and I was grateful for that, because an older guy like him—even if he was a counselor—should've steered clear of an uncool middle-schooler like me. But Luke had welcomed me into the cabin. He'd even stolen me some toiletries, which was the nicest thing anybody had done for me all day.

I decided to ask him my last big question, the one that had been bothering me all afternoon. "Clarisse, from Ares, was joking about me being 'Big Three' material. Then Annabeth ... twice, she said I might be 'the one.' She said I should talk to the Oracle. What was that all about?"

Luke folded his knife. "I hate prophecies."

"What do you mean?"

His face twitched around the scar. "Let's just say I messed things up for everybody else. The last two years, ever since my trip to the Garden of the Hesperides went sour, Chiron hasn't allowed any more quests. Annabeth's been dying to get out into the world. She pestered Chiron so much he finally told her he already knew her fate. He'd had a prophecy from the Oracle. He wouldn't tell her the whole thing, but he said Annabeth wasn't destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until...somebody special came to the camp."

"Somebody special?"

"Don't worry about it, kid," Luke said. "Annabeth wants to think every new camper who comes through here is the omen she's been waiting for. Now, come on, it's dinnertime."

The moment he said it, a horn blew in the distance. Somehow, I knew it was a conch shell, even though I'd never heard one before.

* * *

I rushed out of the space under my bed, pulling myself out and hitting my head on my bed, and slammed the boards back in place. I was just in time to hear Luke.

* * *

Luke yelled, "Eleven, fall in!"

The whole cabin, about twenty of us, filed into the commons yard. We lined up in order of seniority, so of course I was dead last. Campers came from the other cabins, too, except for the three empty cabins at the end, and cabin eight, which had looked normal in the daytime, but was now starting to glow silver as the sun went down.

We marched up the hill to the mess hall pavilion, Marisol running up to me and staying stuck to me like glue. Satyrs joined us from the meadow. Naiads emerged from the canoeing lake. A few other girls came out of the woods— and when I say out of the woods, I mean _straight _out of the woods. I saw one girl, about nine or ten years old, melt from the side of a maple tree and come skipping up the hill.

In all, there were maybe a hundred campers, a few dozen satyrs, and a dozen assorted wood nymphs and naiads.

At the pavilion, torches blazed around the marble columns. A central fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each cabin had its own table, covered in white cloth trimmed in purple. Four of the tables were empty, but cabin eleven's was way overcrowded. I had to squeeze on to the edge of a bench with half my butt hanging off. Marisol sat on the ground by me, not minding at all, and she seemed to be watching me.

I saw Grover sitting at table twelve with Mr. D, a few satyrs, and a couple of plump blond boys who looked just like Mr. D. Chiron stood to one side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur.

Annabeth sat at table six with a bunch of serious-looking athletic kids, all with her gray eyes and honey-blond hair.

Clarisse sat behind me at Ares's table. She'd apparently gotten over being hosed down, because she was laughing and belching right alongside her friends.

Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. "To the gods!"

Everybody else raised their glasses. "To the gods!"

Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and yes, barbecue! My glass was empty, but Luke said, "Speak to it. Whatever you want—nonalcoholic, of course."

I said, "Cherry Coke."

The glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid.

Then I had an idea. "_Blue _Cherry Coke."

The soda turned a violent shade of cobalt.

I took a cautious sip. Perfect.

I drank a toast to my mother.

She's not gone, I told myself. Not permanently, anyway. She's in the Underworld. And if that's a real place, then someday...

"Here you go, Percy," Luke said, handing me a platter of smoked brisket. "Mari, want anything?"

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving me.

I loaded my plate and was about to take a big bite when I noticed everybody getting up, carrying their plates toward the fire in the center of the pavilion.

I wondered if they were going for dessert or something.

"Come on," Luke told me.

As I got closer, I saw that everyone was taking a portion of their meal and dropping it into the fire, the ripest straw berry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll.

* * *

As everybody made their offerings, I just glared at my goblet of orange juice. Orange juice is my favorite juice and I drink it a lot. Don't ask, it's a long story. I sat on the ground, thinking. _How could I have made that symbol? I had just been throwing them without thinking about where they'd land. Damn it all, he's messing with me. But something is definitely changing._

* * *

Luke murmured in my ear, "Burnt offerings for the gods. They like the smell."

"You're kidding."

His look warned me not to take this lightly, but I couldn't help wondering why an immortal, all-powerful being would like the smell of burning food.

Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes.

"Hermes."

I was next.

I wished I knew what god's name to say.

Finally, I made a silent plea. _Whoever you are, tell me. Please._

I scraped a big slice of brisket into the flames.

When I caught a whiff of the smoke, I didn't gag.

It smelled nothing like burning food. It smelled of hot chocolate and fresh-baked brownies, hamburgers on the grill and wildflowers, and a hundred other good things that shouldn't have gone well together, but did. I could almost believe the gods could live off that smoke.

* * *

I sighed as I watched everybody eating. I was starving, but I wasn't in the mood to eat. Percy had noticed my stomach rumbling, or he felt it, or something, and he handed me a buttery roll. I sighed as I ate it, and smiled. So, maybe I was warming up to him. Big whoop, I'm stuck with him anyway. Not that _he _knows that.

* * *

When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention.

Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels."

A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table.

"Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Peter Johnson."

Chiron murmured something.

"Er, Percy Jackson," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on."

Everybody cheered.

We all headed down toward the amphitheater, where Apollo's cabin led a sing-along. We sang camp songs about the gods and ate s'mores and joked around, and the funny thing was, I didn't feel that anyone was staring at me anymore. I felt that I was home.

Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and we all filed back to our cabins. I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I collapsed on my borrowed sleeping bag.

* * *

I plopped into bed and smiled. Percy had just about collapsed onto his sleeping bag, a typical thing that I see in newbies. The sweet thing was that he was thinking about the good times he'd had with his mom. I sighed as he fell asleep and I got drowsy. Whatever was happening to me was because of him, but he didn't know that. I reached over in bed and patted his head before rolling over and putting a pillow on either side of me. I hid under my covers and put my head in my arms before falling asleep. My last thought: Percy Jackson, welcome to your new home.

* * *

My fingers curled around the Minotaur's horn. I thought about my mom, but I had good thoughts: her smile, the bedtime stories she would read me when I was a kid, the way she would tell me not to let the bedbugs bite.

When I closed my eyes, I fell asleep instantly.

That was my first day at Camp Half-Blood.

I wish I'd known how briefly I would get to enjoy my new home.

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**Okay, if Marisol semmed Mary Sue . . . tell me. But hey, can you blame her for knowing where bunker 11 is, and how to get passed the traps? _Helloooo_ she's lived in that cabin for like, a lot of years! She knows camp secrets. Duh.**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	9. Chapter 8

Hey. I'm back for the second time today. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me forty eight days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to corpse blood who I am so in debt to. You pointed out my idiotic mistake of me skipping a chapter! Gods I feel so **stupid**. How I did that, I don't know, but I thought I'd already put up We Capture A Flag. Gods I feel stupid.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**We Capture a Flag**

* * *

The next few days I settled into a routine that felt almost normal, if you don't count the fact that I was getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur.

Each morning I took Ancient Greek from Annabeth, and we talked about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which was kind of weird. I discovered Annabeth was right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek wasn't that hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English.

After a couple of mornings, I could stumble through a few lines of Homer without too much headache.

The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something I was good at. Chiron tried to teach me archery, but we found out pretty quick I wasn't any good with a bow and arrow. He didn't complain, even when he had to desnag a stray arrow out of his tail.

Foot racing? No good either. The wood-nymph instructors left me in the dust. They told me not to worry about it. They'd had centuries of practice running away from lovesick gods. But still, it was a little humiliating to be slower than a tree.

And wrestling? Forget it. Every time I got on the mat, Clarisse would pulverize me.

"There's more where that came from, punk," she'd mumble in my ear.

The only thing I really excelled at was canoeing, and that wasn't the kind of heroic skill people expected to see from the kid who had beaten the Minotaur.

"Cheer up Percy. The skills you have will help you survive, even if you don't think so right now," Marisol would tell me, smiling like there was something special about me and my _talents_.

I knew the senior campers and counselors were watching me, trying to decide who my dad was, but they weren't having an easy time of it. I wasn't as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids.

I didn't have Hephaestus's skill with metalwork or—gods forbid— Dionysus's way with vine plants. Luke told me I might be a child of Hermes, a kind of jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I got the feeling he was just trying to make me feel better. He really didn't know what to make of me either.

* * *

I had spent that last three days getting to know Percy, but I had also spent most of my time pacing around bunker eleven. I knew where four other bunkers were around camp, but I had no way of getting into them without almost getting killed.

I'd been skipping out on daily activities and breakfast. I only made appearances when Percy had a free bit of time, and at dinner. I always sat on the ground by Percy, telling the other cabin member I didn't care about my spot at the head of the table anymore. Luke had taken the spot before the others but they still knew I was second in command to the councilor.

* * *

Despite all that, I liked camp. I got used to the morning fog over the beach, the smell of hot strawberry fields in the afternoon, even the weird noises of monsters in the woods at night. I would eat dinner with cabin eleven, scrape part of my meal into the fire, and try to feel some connection to my real dad. Nothing came. Just that warm feeling I'd always had, like the memory of his smile. I tried not to think too much about my mom, but I kept wondering: if gods and monsters were real, if all this magical stuff was possible, surely there was some way to save her, to bring her back...

I started to understand Luke's bitterness and how he seemed to resent his father, Hermes. So okay, maybe gods had important things to do. But couldn't they call once in a while, or thunder, or something? Dionysus could make Diet Coke appear out of thin air. Why couldn't my dad, whoever he was, make a phone appear?

* * *

I sighed as bitterness came over Percy. Chiron would have to let me tell him soon, or Chiron would have to tell him himself. Either way Percy had to know he wasn't alone in the unclaimed world of Demigods. I stared at the knives in the cork board before a sudden urge to draw them hit me like a smack in the face.

Before I could really think about it I was sitting with a charcoal pencil and some paper, drawing out the symbol the knives had made. When I was done, I stuffed the drawing in my pocket and tried to get the knives out of the cork board. It should have been simple, but somehow the knives held like they were glued down.

Oh no, he must have seen that I'd made the symbol. What if I never got these stupid knives out of the board? What if Luke or somebody else saw them? Oh gods . . . what if the gods had seen this?

* * *

Thursday afternoon, three days after I'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I had my first sword-fighting lesson. Everybody from cabin eleven gathered in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor.

We started with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor. I guess I did okay. At least, I understood what I was supposed to do and my reflexes were good.

The problem was, I couldn't find a blade that felt right in my hands. Either they were too heavy, or too light, or too long.

Luke tried his best to fix me up, but he agreed that none of the practice blades seemed to work for me.

We moved on to dueling in pairs. Luke announced he would be my partner, since this was my first time.

"Good luck," one of the campers told me. "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years."

"Maybe he'll go easy on me," I said.

The camper snorted.

* * *

I glared at Travis and elbowed him in the ribs.

"Oww, what?" he whispered as he rubbed his side.

"Way to make him feel good. Percy won't be used as a punching bag. Not too much anyway. And haha, you were punching bagged! I taught Luke, so he was _my _punching bag. I've never been punching bagged. Haha!" I whispered childishly. It's true, I had taught Luke the basics with a sword, then he did the rest all on his own like I had, but we both had our own styles.

I covered my face with my hands, and watched everything through my fingers. You know, until the amazing happened.

* * *

Luke showed me thrusts and parries and shield blocks the hard way. With every swipe, I got a little more battered and bruised. "Keep your guard up, Percy," he'd say, then whap me in the ribs with the flat of his blade. "No, not that far up!" _Whap! _"Lunge!" _Whap! _"Now, back!" _Whap!_

By the time he called a break, I was soaked in sweat. Everybody swarmed the drinks cooler. Luke poured ice water on his head, which looked like such a good idea, I did the same.

Instantly, I felt better. Strength surged back into my arms. The sword didn't feel so awkward.

"Okay, everybody circle up!" Luke ordered. "If Percy doesn't mind, I want to give you a little demo."

Great, I thought. Let's all watch Percy get pounded.

The Hermes guys gathered around. They were suppressing smiles. I figured they'd been in my shoes before and couldn't wait to see how Luke used me for a punching bag.

He told everybody he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy's blade with the flat of your own sword so that he had no choice but to drop his weapon.

"This is difficult," he stressed. "I've had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique."

He demonstrated the move on me in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of my hand.

"Now in real time," he said, after I'd retrieved my weapon. "We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?"

I nodded, and Luke came after me. Somehow, I kept him from getting a shot at the hilt of my sword. My senses opened up. I saw his attacks coming. I countered. I stepped forward and tried a thrust of my own. Luke deflected it easily, but I saw a change in his face. His eyes narrowed, and he started to press me with more force.

The sword grew heavy in my hand. The balance wasn't right.

I knew it was only a matter of seconds before Luke took me down, so I figured, What the heck?

I tried the disarming maneuver.

My blade hit the base of Luke's and I twisted, putting my whole weight into a downward thrust.

_Clang._

Luke's sword rattled against the stones.

The tip of my blade was an inch from his undefended chest.

The other campers were silent.

* * *

I couldn't help it, I began squealing like a girl. I was jumping up and down, drawing some attention to myself, and then I turned to Travis.

"_In your face Stoll_!" I cheered. Travis gave me the _yeah-yeah-you-were-right _look and I grinned before turning back to a nervous Percy like the rest of us were.

* * *

I lowered my sword. "Um, sorry."

For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak.

"Sorry?" His scarred face broke into a grin. "By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

I didn't want to. The short burst of manic energy had completely abandoned me. But Luke insisted. This time, there was no contest. The moment our swords connected, Luke hit my hilt and sent my weapon skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, somebody in the audience said, "Beginner's luck?"

Luke wiped the sweat off his brow. He appraised at me with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he said. "But I wonder what Percy could do with a balanced sword..."

Friday afternoon, I was sitting with Grover and Marisol at the lake, resting from a near-death experience on the climbing wall.

Grover had scampered to the top like a mountain goat, and Marisol had taken some kind of shortcut, but the lava had almost gotten me. My shirt had smoking holes in it. The hairs had been singed off my forearms.

We sat on the pier, watching the naiads do underwater basket-weaving, until I got up the nerve to ask Grover how his conversation had gone with Mr. D. His face turned a sickly shade of yellow.

"Fine," he said. "Just great."

"So your career's still on track?"

He glanced at me nervously. "Chiron t-told you I want a searcher's license?"

"Well... no." I had no idea what a searcher's license was, but it didn't seem like the right time to ask. *Doofus,* Marisol mumbled in my mind, but she was smiling at me on the outside. Something seemed wrong with this picture. The way she smiled, but something important was missing. Something I should know. "He just said you had big plans, you know ... and that you needed credit for completing a keeper's assignment. So did you get it?"

Grover looked down at the naiads. "Mr. D suspended judgment. He said I hadn't failed or succeeded with you yet, so our fates were still tied together. If you got a quest and I went along to protect you, and we both came back alive, then maybe he'd consider the job complete."

My spirits lifted. "Well, that's not so bad, right?"

_"Blaa-ha-ha!_ He might as well have transferred me to stable-cleaning duty. The chances of you getting a quest... and even if you did, why would you want _me _along?"

"Of course I'd want you along!" I said as Marisol said, "Of course he'd want you along Grover!"

Grover stared glumly into the water. "Basket-weaving ... Must be nice to have a useful skill."

I tried to reassure him that he had lots of talents, but that just made him look more miserable. We talked about canoeing and swordplay for a while, then debated the pros and cons of the different gods. Finally, I asked him about the four empty cabins.

"Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis," he said. "She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn't have one, she'd be mad."

"And don't forget the hunter club stays there when they _visit_," Mari grumbled.

"Yeah, okay. But the other three, the ones at the end. Are those the Big Three?"

Grover tensed, Mari directed her gaze to some lockets around her neck. We were getting close to a touchy subject. "No. One of them, number two, is Hera's," he said. "That's another honorary thing. She's the goddess of marriage, so of course she wouldn't go around having affairs with mortals. That's her husband's job."

"When we say the Big Three, we mean the three powerful brothers, the sons of Kronos," Marisol finished.

"Zeus, Poseidon, Hades."

"Right. You know. After the great battle with the Titans, they took over the world from their dad and drew lots to decide who got what," Grover went on.

"Zeus got the sky," I remembered. "Poseidon the sea, Hades the Underworld."

"Uh-huh."

"But Hades doesn't have a cabin here."

"No. He doesn't have a throne on Olympus, either. He sort of does his own thing down in the Underworld. If he did have a cabin here ..." Grover shuddered. "Well, it wouldn't be pleasant. Let's leave it at that."

"Not cool. It's unfair to him not to get a cabin, goat boy. He's not all bad, and he's still their brother," Mari muttered as she fumbled around with a silver locket.

"But Zeus and Poseidon—they both had, like, a bazillion kids in the myths. Why are their cabins empty?" I asked.

Grover shifted his hooves uncomfortably.

"About sixty years ago, after World War II, the Big Three agreed they wouldn't sire any more heroes. Their children were just too powerful. They were affecting the course of human events too much, causing too much carnage. World War II, you know, that was basically a fight between the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side, and the sons of Hades on the other. The winning side, Zeus and Poseidon, made Hades swear an oath with them: no more affairs with mortal women. They all swore on the River Styx."

Thunder boomed.

I said, "That's the most serious oath you can make."

Grover nodded.

"And the brothers kept their word—no kids?"

Grover's face darkened. "Seventeen years ago, Zeus fell off the wagon. There was this TV starlet with a big fluffy eighties hairdo—he just couldn't help himself. When their child was born, a little girl named Thalia . . . well, the River Styx is serious about promises. Zeus himself got off easy because he's immortal, but he brought a terrible fate on his daughter."

Marisol stiffened, I can only guess she's probably heard the story a few times.

"But that isn't fair.' It wasn't the little girl's fault."

Grover hesitated. "Percy, children of the Big Three have powers greater than other half-bloods. They have a strong aura, a scent that attracts monsters. When Hades found out about the girl, he wasn't too happy about Zeus breaking his oath. Hades let the worst monsters out of Tartarus to torment Thalia. A satyr was assigned to be her keeper when she was twelve, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to escort her here with a trio of other half-bloods she'd befriended. They almost made it. They got all the way to the top of that hill."

Marisol flinched, her whole body trembling as though she were cold. What was up with her?

He pointed across the valley, to the pine tree where I'd fought the minotaur. "All three Kindly Ones were after them, along with a horde of hellhounds. They were about to be overrun when Thalia told her satyr to take the other three half-bloods to safety while she held off the monsters. She was wounded and tired, and she didn't want to live like a hunted animal. The satyr didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't change her mind, and he had to protect the others. So Thalia made her final stand alone, at the top of that hill. As she died, Zeus took pity on her. He turned her into that pine tree. Her spirit still helps protect the borders of the valley. That's why the hill is called Half-Blood Hill."

I stared at the pine in the distance.

The story made me feel hollow, and guilty too. A girl my age had sacrificed herself to save her friends. She had faced a whole army of monsters. Next to that, my victory over the Minotaur didn't seem like much.

* * *

I felt myself go numb as Grover told the story of Thalia. I had only been seven around the time that that happened, but it didn't mean I didn't understand. Thalia had lost her life for her friends. She had lost her life to protect theirs. She had lost her life, keeping a secret that only a few knew. She had done what nobody else would have had the courage to do.

Maybe if it had only been three . . . maybe the monsters wouldn't have caught them before they made it to camp. Maybe they could have lost the monster. Or maybe if it had been three minors and one big three. Maybe things could have been different?

Too many maybes.

* * *

I wondered, if I'd acted differently, could I have saved my mother?

Marisol jumped up in one swift movement and was gone before I could even ask what was up. I swear, I think I saw tears in her eyes.

"Grover," I said, "Have heroes really gone on quests to the Underworld?"

"Sometimes," he said. "Orpheus. Hercules. Houdini."

"And have they ever returned somebody from the dead?"

"No. Never. Orpheus came close... . Percy, you're not seriously thinking—"

"No," I lied.

"I was just wondering. So ... a satyr is always assigned to guard a demigod?"

Grover studied me warily. I hadn't persuaded him that I'd really dropped the Underworld idea. "Not always. We go undercover to a lot of schools. We try to sniff out the half-bloods who have the makings of great heroes. If we find one with a very strong aura, like a child of the Big Three, we alert Chiron. He tries to keep an eye on them, since they could cause really huge problems."

"And you found me. Chiron said you thought I might be something special."

Grover looked as if I'd just led him into a trap. "I didn't... Oh, listen, don't think like that. If you _were_—you know—you'd never _ever _be allowed a quest, and I'd never get my license. You're probably a child of Hermes. Or maybe even one of the minor gods, like Nemesis, the god of revenge. Don't worry, okay?"

I got the idea he was reassuring himself more than me.

* * *

I sighed as I examined my mother's picture in the locket. She looked happy and she had some grey in her brown hair, but I knew it wasn't because she was old. I felt the drawing in my pocket shifting around as I moved. I wanted to burn it, but something told me I shouldn't.

* * *

That night after dinner, there was a lot more excitement than usual.

At last, it was time for capture the flag.

When the plates were cleared away, the conch horn sounded and we all stood at our tables.

Campers yelled and cheered as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies ran in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar's head.

I turned to Luke and yelled over the noise, "Those are the flags?"

"Yeah."

"Ares and Athena always lead the teams?"

"Not always," he said. "But often."

"So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do— repaint the flag?"

He grinned. "You'll see. First we have to get one."

"Whose side are we on?"

He gave me a sly look, as if he knew something I didn't. The scar on his face made him look almost evil in the torchlight. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And _you _are going to help."

The teams were announced. Athena had made an alliance with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins.

Apparently, privileges had been traded—shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—in order to win support.

Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what I'd seen, Dionysus's kids were actually good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter's kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff but they weren't very aggressive. Aphrodite's sons and daughters I wasn't too worried about.

They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem.

That, of course, left Ares's cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet.

Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble.

"Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxhide shields coated in metal.

"Whoa," I said. "We're really supposed to use these?"

Luke looked at me as if I were crazy. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here—Chiron thought these would fit. You'll be on border patrol."

"I'll join him. No problem," Marisol interjected.

"But we need you on―" Luke tried to argue.

"Border patrol. Good to know. See ya 'round bro," she said happily before kissing his cheek and darting off to get armor.

"I hate it when she does that," he muttered before he handed me a shield.

My shield was the size of an NBA backboard, with a big caduceus in the middle. It weighed about a million pounds. I could have snowboarded on it fine, but I hoped nobody seriously expected me to run fast. My helmet, like all the helmets on Athena's side, had a blue horsehair plume on top. Ares and their allies had red plumes.

Annabeth yelled, "Blue team, forward!"

We cheered and shook our swords and followed her down the path to the south woods. The red team yelled taunts at us as they headed off toward the north.

I managed to catch up with Annabeth without tripping over my equipment. "Hey."

She kept marching.

"So what's the plan?" I asked. "Got any magic items you can loan me?"

Her hand drifted toward her pocket, as if she were afraid I'd stolen something.

"Just watch Clarisse's spear," she said. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job?"

"Border patrol, whatever that means."

"It's easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away. Leave the rest to me. Athena always has a plan."

She pushed ahead, leaving me in the dust.

"Okay," I mumbled. "Glad you wanted me on your team."

* * *

I sighed as I wait for Percy by the creek. Gods that boy was slow. Well, he was a newbie, and he's probably never held anything but a cardboard shield before. I decided I'd shimmy up into the trees a few feet from the creek and I hit high up so I'd be covered.

* * *

It was a warm, sticky night. The woods were dark, with fireflies popping in and out of view_. _Annabeth stationed me next to a little creek that gurgled over some rocks, then she and the rest of the team scattered into the trees.

Standing there alone, with my big blue-feathered helmet and my huge shield, I felt like an idiot. The bronze sword, like all the swords I'd tried so far, seemed balanced wrong. The leather grip pulled on my hand like a bowling ball.

There was no way anybody would actually attack me, would they? I mean, Olympus had to have liability issues, right?

Far away, the conch horn blew. I heard whoops and yells in the woods, the clanking of metal, kids fighting. A blue-plumed ally from Apollo raced past me like a deer, leaped through the creek, and disappeared into enemy territory.

Great, I thought. I'll miss all the fun, as usual.

* * *

*Hey, hey, hey. I'm up in the trees, with you, by the creek. I'm missing shix too!* I protested. How dare he forget I was here!

*Yeah, but I can't see you.*

*So neither will the enemy. Now focus, I think someone's coming.* I could tell by the chills that rattled my body and made me twitch against my will. Something was out there, watching us.

* * *

Then I heard a sound that sent a chill up my spine, a low canine growl, somewhere close by.

I raised my shield instinctively; I had the feeling something was stalking me.

Then the growling stopped. I felt the presence retreating.

On the other side of the creek, the underbrush exploded. Five Ares warriors came yelling and screaming out of the dark.

"Cream the punk!" Clarisse screamed.

Her ugly pig eyes glared through the slits of her helmet.

She brandished a five-foot-long spear, its barbed metal tip flickering with red light. Her siblings had only the standard-issue bronze swords—not that that made me feel any better.

They charged across the stream. There was no help in sight. I could run. Or I could defend myself against half the Ares cabin. I managed to sidestep the first kid's swing, but these guys were not as stupid the Minotaur. They surrounded me, and Clarisse thrust at me with her spear. My shield deflected the point, but I felt a painful tingling all over my body. My hair stood on end. My shield arm went numb, and the air burned.

Electricity. Her stupid spear was electric. I fell back.

Another Ares guy slammed me in the chest with the butt of his sword and I hit the dirt.

They could've kicked me into jelly, but they were too busy laughing.

"Give him a haircut," Clarisse said. "Grab his hair."

I managed to get to my feet. I raised my sword, but Clarisse slammed it aside with her spear as sparks flew. Now both my arms felt numb.

"Oh, wow," Clarisse said. "I'm scared of this guy. Really scared."

"The flag is that way," I told her. I wanted to sound angry, but I was afraid it didn't come out that way.

"Yeah," one of her siblings said. "But see, we don't care about the flag. We care about a guy who made our cabin look stupid."

"You do that without my help," I told them. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say.

Two of them came at me. I backed up toward the creek, tried to raise my shield, but Clarisse was too fast. Her spear stuck me straight in the ribs. If I hadn't been wearing an armored breastplate, I would've been shish-kebabbed. As it was, the electric point just about shocked my teeth out of my mouth. One of her cabinmates slashed his sword across my arm, leaving a good-size cut.

Seeing my own blood made me dizzy—warm and cold at the same time.

"No maiming," I managed to say.

"Oops," the guy said. "Guess I lost my dessert privilege."

He pushed me into the creek and I landed with a splash.

They all laughed. I figured as soon as they were through being amused, I would die. But then something happened. The water seemed to wake up my senses, as if I'd just had a bag of my mom's double-espresso jelly beans.

Clarisse and her cabinmates came into the creek to get me, but I stood to meet them. I knew what to do. I swung the flat of my sword against the first guy's head and knocked his helmet clean off. I hit him so hard I could see his eyes vibrating as he crumpled into the water.

Ugly Number Two and Ugly Number Three came at me. I slammed one in the face with my shield and used my sword to shear off the other guy's horsehair plume. Both of them backed up quick. Ugly Number Four didn't look really anxious to attack, but Clarisse kept coming, the point of her spear crackling with energy. As soon as she thrust, I caught the shaft between the edge of my shield and my sword, and I snapped it like a twig.

"Ah!" she screamed. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!"

She probably would've said worse, but I smacked her between the eyes with my sword-butt and sent her stumbling backward out of the creek.

* * *

I smiled as I watched Percy take down four Ares kids all on his own. All he needed was a bit of water. I hopped out of the tree and landed in the creek, I had crawled to the edge of the longest branch, and I startled the guy so bad he tripped and fell on his butt into the water. I giggled before I slammed the flat of my sword into the side of his helmet and he k.o.'d. I dragged him out of the water so he wouldn't drown, then I dropped him, hearing his head rattle inside of his ugly helmet.

"Nice job there Jackson. Knew you had it in ya," I said as I patted his shoulder.

"You left me there to die!" he growled. I flinched, but smiled at him.

"I was looking for the right time to surprise them. 'Scuse me for not knowing you'd take four of them down before I got a chance to do anything. Plus, you're alive. You're not even hurt," I said with a grin. He opened his mouth to protest, but he was interrupted,

* * *

Then I heard yelling, elated screams, and I saw Luke racing toward the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He was flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks got up, and Clarisse muttered a dazed curse.

"A trick!" she shouted. "It was a trick."

They staggered after Luke, but it was too late. Everybody converged on the creek as Luke ran across into friendly territory. Our side exploded into cheers. The red banner shimmered and turned to silver. The boar and spear were replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of cabin eleven. Everybody on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron cantered out from the woods and blew the conch horn.

The game was over. We'd won.

I was about to join the celebration when Annabeth's voice, right next to me in the creek, said, "Not bad, hero."

I looked, but she wasn't there.

"Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" she asked. The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.

I felt myself getting angry. I wasn't even fazed by the fact that she'd just been invisible. "You set me up," I said. "You put me here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out."

Annabeth shrugged. "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan."

"A plan to get me pulverized."

"I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but ..." She shrugged. "You didn't need help."

Then she noticed my wounded arm. "How did you do that?"

"Sword cut," I said. "What do you think?"

"No. It _was _a sword cut. Look at it."

The blood was gone. Where the huge cut had been, there was a long white scratch, and even that was fading. As I watched, it turned into a small scar, and disappeared.

"I—I don't get it," I said.

Annabeth was thinking hard.

I could almost see the gears turning. She looked down at my feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and said, "Step out of the water, Percy."

"What—"

"Just do it. Marisol, you too."

I came out of the creek and immediately felt bone tired. My arms started to go numb again. My adrenaline rush left me. I almost fell over, but Annabeth steadied me.

* * *

I stepped out of the water and cursed as I stumbled and fell. Annabeth caught the exhausted Percy, but I guess the fall into the creek didn't turn out as I'd hoped. My ankle burned and I had the feeling I twisted it in one of the two falls I'd experienced within the last hour.

Will Solace from the Apollo cabin came over and helped me up, putting his arm around my waist and steadying me. I gave him a small smile as he gave me some nectar and my ankle felt better. I stood on my own and walked over to Percy as Annabeth stared at us. I could tell what she was thinking.

* * *

"Oh, Styx," she cursed. "This is _not _good. I didn't want ... I assumed it would be Zeus... ."

"Oh no way. If I had to pick between the Bigs, it wouldn't be Zeus. I'd even pick Hades before him," Mari protested.

Before I could ask what she meant, I heard that canine growl again, but much closer than before. A howl ripped through the forest.

The campers' cheering died instantly. Chiron shouted something in Ancient Greek, which I would realize, only later, I had understood perfectly: _"Stand ready! My bow!"_

Annabeth drew her sword. Mari began swearing as she drew a dagger in her left hand and took my left hand with her right. She moved to take a step back, and then she froze.

There on the rocks just above us was a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

It was looking straight at me.

Then the second appeared, glaring at the girl beside me.

Nobody moved except Annabeth, who yelled, "Percy, run!" and Marisol who tried dragging me backwards.

Annabeth tried to step in front of us, but the hounds were too fast. They leaped over her—an enormous shadow with teeth—and just as they hit us, as I stumbled backward and felt its razor-sharp claws ripping through my armor, there was a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after the other. From the hounds neck sprouted a cluster of arrows. The monster fell dead at my feet.

* * *

I held back several curses as I tried pulling Percy back but he just _wouldn't _move! When the hellhounds caught my eye, I froze. I remember the night of my first fight. I had seen Percy and tried to drag him away then as well. That had almost gotten me killed by a hellhound. This time, I was probably going to die.

The hounds jumped over Annabeth whom may the gods bless her, had stepped up to protect us. They tackled Percy and I, and I felt something sharp dig into my armor, slicing through it and scraping my side. I felt the sticky liquid flow from my wound as the hellhound tore up my armor. I took the dagger and drove it into the monster's neck and I kneed it so that it fell off of me, dead.

I knew my side, and my stomach, were definitely screwed up. I could feel the blood, and I could smell it. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend this wasn't happening. Again.

* * *

By some miracle, I was still alive. I didn't want to look underneath the ruins of my shredded armor. My chest felt warm and wet, and I knew I was badly cut. Another second, and the monster would've turned me into a hundred pounds of delicatessen meat.

Chiron trotted up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim.

_"Di immortales!"_ Annabeth said. "Those were hellhounds from the Fields of Punishment. They don't ... they're not supposed to ..."

"Someone summoned them," Chiron said. "Someone inside the camp."

Luke came over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone.

Clarisse yelled, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summoned it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron told her.

We watched the body of the hellhounds melt into shadow, soaking into the ground until it disappeared.

"You're wounded," Annabeth told me. "Quick, Percy, Mari, get in the water."

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not," she said. "Chiron, watch this."

I was too tired to argue. I stepped back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around me. I pulled Marisol into the water and had her stand, I may have been tired, but I was able to support her. For some reason, I felt like I had to.

Instantly, I felt better. I could feel the cuts on my chest closing up. Some of the campers gasped.

"Look, I—I don't know why," I said, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry..."

* * *

I felt myself being lifted, and soon I was in the water using Percy as a crutch. I felt the water hitting my wounds, I knew they were closing. I felt instant relief, but I began trembling as I felt something above my head. Percy tried to apologize for healing, but that wasn't what was so stunning. Above his head was a glowing symbol, claiming him to be the son of a god. I looked up and caught the fading symbol above my head too.

So dad finally decided to claim us. At least we were together.

* * *

But they weren't watching my wounds heal. They were staring at something above my head.

"Percy," Annabeth said, pointing. "Um ... Mari … you might wanna …"

By the time I looked up, the sign was already fading, but I could still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident.

"Your father," Annabeth murmured. "This is _really _not good."

"It is determined," Chiron announced.

All around me, campers started kneeling, even the Ares cabin, though they didn't look happy about it.

"My father?" I asked, completely bewildered. Mari began mumbling about claimings and she stared up at the space above her head, the trident fading. In her eyes I could see the sparkle though. The same green light shone in her eyes, as though the image had been burned into her vision. She blinked and her eyes were back to their regular green, but she only stared at me.

"Dad's claimed us. We're not just demigods anymore," she whispered.

"Poseidon," said Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, and Marisol, Son and Daughter of the Sea God."

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**Okay,I'm not sure I like how this went. Well, I'm never sure. I always dislike my writing, it's a me thing. Tell me whatcha think. I've decided to do mass uploads instead of uploading every time I finish a new chapter.**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	10. Chapter 9

Hey. I'm back for the second time today. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me forty eight days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to 88556622G and CyberWolf1999. Thanks for your support.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**I Am Offered a Quest**

* * *

The next morning, Chiron moved Marisol and me to cabin three.

I only had to share with her. I had plenty of room for all my stuff: the Minotaur's horn, one set of spare clothes, and a toiletry bag. I got to sit at my own dinner table, pick all my own activities, call "lights out" whenever I felt like it, and not listen to anybody else.

And I was absolutely miserable.

Just when I'd started to feel accepted, to feel I had a home in cabin eleven and I might be a normal kid—or as normal as you can be when you're a half-blood—I'd been separated out as if I had some rare disease.

Marisol always reminded me that I wasn't alone, but it still wasn't right with it being just us.

* * *

Being in the Poseidon cabin wasn't fun. I had to listen to Percy, and do what activities he wanted. Funny thing is, I didn't mind having him be the boss. I minded how everybody had suddenly cast us away and treated us like lepers. Sure, blood thirsty monsters were out to kill us, but I'd been at this camp for twelve _years _and these people had been there for me through everything else. So now when the threat was suddenly _real_ they were just leaving me for dead? Some friends I had.

I actually enjoyed being with just Percy though. I got to know him better, and he told me stories about his mom . . . our mom . . . it's still confusing so don't expect me to know how to refer to her. When I told him I'd been left at camp as a baby he was shocked, and I could tell he felt bad for me when I said my mom left me and separated me from my big brother to keep us both _safe._ I still couldn't believe he hadn't put the pieces together, even when I told him my birthday was on the same day as his. I guess boys were just that dense. Now _I _just have to figure out how to tell him we were twins.

* * *

Nobody mentioned the hellhounds, but I got the feeling they were all talking about it behind our backs.

The attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages: one; that we were the children of the Sea God; and two, monsters would stop at nothing to kill us. They could even invade a camp that had always been considered safe.

The other campers steered clear of Mari and me as much as possible. Cabin eleven was too nervous to have sword class with us after what I'd done to the Ares folks in the woods, and after what Mari did to the hellhound, so my lessons with Luke became one-on-one. He pushed me harder than ever, and wasn't afraid to bruise me up in the process. Mari got off scot free because she was already a pro with a sword and she got to go off in the woods to fight monsters, but she had to take another camper with her just in case.

"You're going to need all the training you can get," he promised, as we were working with swords and flaming torches. "Now let's try that viper-beheading strike again. Fifty more repetitions."

* * *

Every time we had to go to lessons with Luke, I just took my sword and went to the woods with Will Solace, a sun of Apollo who was impossibly amazing with a bow and arrows. He was also good-looking, so that was a bonus. We'd hunt monsters and keep a tally of how many we could kill in the hour we had, coming back laughing each time because something usually happens in the woods that we find funny. Poor Percy was bruised and battered Everytime he came back from a lesson so I usually took care of him before bed by giving him little bits of ambrosia and a sip or two of nectar. I'd learned enough from Liz to know how to treat the minor wounds and illnesses campers could face.

* * *

Annabeth still taught us Greek in the mornings, but she seemed distracted. Every time I said something, she scowled at me, as if I'd just poked her between the eyes. Marisol was stunned to see Annabeth had given her the icy looks too.

After lessons, she would walk away muttering to herself: "Quest ... Poseidon? ... Dirty rotten ... Got to make a plan …"

Even Clarisse kept her distance, though her venomous looks made it clear she wanted to kill me for breaking her magic spear. I wished she would just yell or punch me or something. I'd rather get into fights every day than be ignored.

I knew somebody at camp resented me, because one night I came into my cabin and found a mortal newspaper dropped inside the doorway, a copy of the _New York Daily News, _opened to the Metro page. The article took me almost an hour to read, because the angrier I got, the more the words floated around on the page.

_BOY AND MOTHER STILL MISSING AFTER_

_FREAK CAR ACCIDENT_

_BY EILEEN SMYTHE_

_Sally Jackson and son Percy are still missing one week after their mysterious disappearance. The family's badly burned '78 Camaro was discovered last Saturday on a north Long Island road with the roof ripped off and the front axle broken._

_The car had flipped and skidded for several hundred feet before exploding._

_Mother and son had gone for a weekend vacation to Montauk, but left hastily, under mysterious circumstances. Small traces of blood were found in the car and near the scene of the wreck, but there were no other signs of the missing Jackson's. Residents in the rural area reported seeing nothing unusual around the time of the accident._

_Ms. Jackson's husband, Gabe Ugliano, claims that his stepson, Percy Jackson, is a troubled child who has been kicked out of numerous boarding schools and has expressed violent tendencies in the past._

_Police would not say whether son Percy is a suspect in his mother's disappearance, but they have not ruled out foul play. Below are recent pictures of Sally Jackson and Percy. Police urge anyone with information to call the following toll-free crime-stoppers hotline._

The phone number was circled in black marker.

I wadded up the paper and threw it away, and was shocked to see Mari had a look of absolute rage on her face. She was staring at a dagger that was pinning a picture to the head board of her bed.

"What's that?" I asked as I sat on her bed with her and leaned forward to examine the picture. It was of a boy, obviously a son of Hermes, and the dagger had been placed right between his eyes but the dagger was also buried deeply into the wood, so it looked like the boy had been stabbed.

"That's Lucas, former son of Hermes and cabin leader. He died along with two others to save his friends. The others were Elizabeth and Andrew, and the three of them had practically raised me. They died when I was six, and I ran away from camp after that. I came back a few months later. I haven't left camp since," she muttered, pulling the dagger out of the wood as though it _hadn't _gone a few inches deep. "What was _that_?"

She pointed toward the trashcan and I sighed before telling her about the article. She looked even angrier by the end, and I guess her being murderously angry was an _understatement_.

* * *

So I was going to _kill_ whoever dishonored Luca but now I was going to find Gabe Uglymano and I was going to make him _wish _he was dead. How dare he treat my brother so horribly? How dare he treat Sally like she was just some . . . some . . . gah!

*Yeah, I'm gonna make Gabe wish he was dead. Nobody treats my brother like that,* I thought angrily.

*I thought we were half-siblings,* Percy though back.

*Details, details. I'm going to kill whoever dishonored Luca though. They're dead on sight. I mean, sticking his dagger, between his eyes, oh they're so dead!*

"Wait, that was his dagger?" Percy asked. I nodded and told him the whole story, about the quest, about Liz, and Andy, and the campers who had gotten sick. By the end of the story I was staring at the inscription on the dagger instead of looking my brother in the eyes. He wrapped me up in a hug and I just sat there, wishing he knew everything about us. How was I going to tell him we weren't just half-siblings?

* * *

I looked at the words in the dagger, _Love Never Dies, _and got up from Mari's bed. I walked over to my own, then flopped down in my bunk bed in the middle of my good-enough-to-be-empty cabin.

"Lights out," I said miserably.

That night, I had my worst dream yet.

I was running along the beach in a storm. This time, there was a city behind me. Not New York. The sprawl was different: buildings spread farther apart, palm trees and low hills in the distance.

About a hundred yards down the surf, two men were fighting. They looked like TV wrestlers, muscular, with beards and long hair. Both wore flowing Greek tunics, one trimmed in blue, the other in green. They grappled with each other, wrestled, kicked and head-butted, and every time they connected, lightning flashed, the sky grew darker, and the wind rose.

I had to stop them. I didn't know why. But the harder I ran, the more the wind blew me back, until I was running in place, my heels digging uselessly in the sand.

Over the roar of the storm, I could hear the blue-robed one yelling at the green-robed one, _Give it back! Give it back! _Like a kindergartner fighting over a toy.

The waves got bigger, crashing into the beach, spraying me with salt.

I yelled, _Stop it! Stop fighting!_

The ground shook. Laughter came from somewhere under the earth, and a voice so deep and evil it turned my blood to ice_._

_Come down, little hero, _the voice crooned. _Come down!_

The sand split beneath me, opening up a crevice straight down to the center of the earth. My feet slipped, and darkness swallowed me.

I woke up, sure I was falling.

* * *

That night, I fell asleep pretty late. I had been singing a lullaby in ancient Greek, trying to get myself to fall asleep, and when I finally did I knew I'd regret it.

I dreamt I was in the throne room and Zeus was pacing in front of his throne angrily. When he noticed my presence, yeah gods can do that, he turned to me with narrowed eyes.

"You stole the bolt!" he boomed. I felt my own eyes narrow and I marched up to him.

"_Excuse me?" _I growled back.

"You shall return it to me by the solstice or I shall make you wish you were never born _like you shouldn't have been_," he hissed. I wasn't aiming to get on his bad side, but I honestly don't care.

"Are you _crazy_?" I shouted. "I didn't steal your stupid bolt. I have no reason to."

Then he slapped me. I felt the electricity flow through my body and I shrieked in pain. Really, if he had simply slapped me I wouldn't have cared or flinched or screamed, but the volts of electricity really did a number on me. I could just imagine him saying _eat voltage _and zapping me with his master bolt . . . you know . . . if he had it.

"You are trying to steal my throne. You and your father, you gave it to the boy to hide, didn't you?" he shouted his accusations and I took a moment to try and stop my eyes from rolling around in my skull. I didn't know a god could actually hurt you through dreams. So not fair.

"I didn't take your stupid bolt, and if I did you wouldn't kill me. Or Percy."

"And why is that?"

"Because we're the only ones who could get it back. I have no reason to steal your stupid sparky bit of tin foil, so I don't see why you're blaming me."

"My bolt was taken from my throne the day of the winter solstice. The day that _you _were up on Olympus. Admit you've taken my bolt, return it, and _maybe _I shall let you live."

"Okay, I don't need an ultimatum from you. I don't want your bolt, or your throne, and I wouldn't help Poseidon anyway. He waited twelve whole years to claim me, and I already wish I wasn't born, so really I've got _nothing_ to lose."

"Except that brother of yours."

There was silence. If he hurt Percy . . . well . . . I'd kill him. Slice him to itty bitty bits and chuck him in Tartarus. I could do it. I had the training, and maybe I could get the aid of . . . no. Making the symbol was enough trouble, but to actually call on him to aid me in taking Zeus down . . . there was no going back from that. No way.

"What do you want me to do?" I whispered in defeat.

"You shall retrieve my bolt and see it safely returned by the summer solstice. If not, you shall watch the boy die."

There was a shock of electricity, and then I was awake. I bolted up out of bed to see Percy and Grover, and a storm brewing.

Oh gods.

* * *

I was still in bed in cabin three. My body told me it was morning, but it was dark outside, and thunder rolled across the hills. A storm was brewing. I hadn't dreamed that. Marisol began wriggling around in her bed and she began to mumble about itty bitty god bits. Okay?

I got out of bed and sat by her side, trying to get her to wake up without startling her. I'd learned she slept with the dagger under her pillow and I didn't want to die because I woke up my sister the wrong way.

I heard a clopping sound at the door, a hoof knocking on the threshold.

"Come in?"

Grover trotted inside, looking worried. "Mr. D wants to see you two."

"Why?"

"He wants to kill... I mean, I'd better let him tell you."

Marisol shot up out of bed and I was so startled I fell out of her bed and landed on the ground.

"Whassamatter?" she said as she bolted out of bed and helped me up.

"Mr. D wants to see us. Or kill us. Or both."

Nervously, I got dressed and followed Mari and Grover out of the cabin, sure that I was in huge trouble.

For days, I'd been half expecting a summons to the Big House. Now that I was declared a son of Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods who weren't supposed to have kids, I figured it was a crime for me just to be alive.

*See, now I wish I was unclaimed. I mean, do all the bad things have to happen to _us_?*

*Probably. I'm guessing it's us against the world now.*

*Got that right.*

The other gods had probably been debating the best way to punish me and my sister for existing, and now Mr. D was ready to deliver their verdict.

Over Long Island Sound, the sky looked like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain was coming in our direction. I asked Grover if we needed an umbrella.

"No," he said. "It never rains here unless we want it to."

I pointed at the storm. "What the heck is that, then?"

He glanced uneasily at the sky. "It'll pass around us. Bad weather always does."

I realized he was right. In the week I'd been here, it had never even been overcast. The few rain clouds I'd seen had skirted right around the edges of the valley.

But this storm ... this one was huge.

*I brought a storm to camp once, twice. Nobody knew it was my fault, but yeah, it's a big bad-bad to make it storm in camp.

At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo's cabin were playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysus's twins were walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everybody was going about their normal business, but they looked tense. They kept their eyes on the storm.

Grover, Mari, and I walked up to the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sat at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet Coke, just as he had on my first day. Chiron sat across the table in his fake wheel chair. They were playing against invisible opponents-two sets of cards hovering in the air.

"Well, well," Mr. D said without looking up. "Our little celebrities."

We waited.

"Come closer," Mr. D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortals, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father."

A net of lightning flashed across the clouds. Thunder shook the windows of the house.

"Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus said.

Chiron feigned interest in his pinochle cards. Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth.

"If I had my way," Dionysus said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm."

"Spontaneous combustion _is _a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron put in.

"Nonsense," Dionysus said. "They wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself I'm thinking of turning you two into some dolphins instead, sending you back to your father."

"Mr. D—" Chiron warned.

"Oh, all right," Dionysus relented. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Dionysus rose, and the invisible players' cards dropped to the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If they are still here when I get back, I'll turn them into a couple of Atlantic bottlenoses. Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do."

Dionysus picked up a playing card, twisted it, and it became a plastic rectangle. A credit card? No. A security pass.

He snapped his fingers.

The air seemed to fold and bend around him. He became a hologram, then a wind, then he was gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind.

Chiron smiled at me, but he looked tired and strained. "Sit, Percy, Marisol, please. And Grover."

We did.

Chiron laid his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use.

"Tell me, Percy," he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?"

Just hearing the name made me shudder.

Chiron probably wanted me to say, _Heck, it was nothing. I eat hellhounds for breakfast._

But I didn't feel like lying.

"It scared me," I said. "If you hadn't shot it, I'd be dead."

"And you, Marisol?"

She gulped, and her eyes darted around before she began mumbling.

"Speak up, child."

"It was scarier than the first one. The one I faced seven years ago, and five years ago."

"You'll meet worse, children. Far worse, before you're done."

"Done ... with what?"

"Your quest, of course. Will you accept it?"

I glanced at Grover, who was crossing his fingers.

"Um, sir," I said, "you haven't told me what it is yet."

Chiron grimaced. "Well, that's the hard part, the details."

Thunder rumbled across the valley. The storm clouds had now reached the edge of the beach. As far as I could see, the sky and the sea were boiling together.

"Poseidon and Zeus," I said. "They're fighting over something valuable ... something that was stolen, aren't they?"

Chiron and Grover exchanged looks. Chiron sat forward in his wheelchair. "How did you know that?"

My face felt hot. I wished I hadn't opened my big mouth. "The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she'd overheard something about a theft. And ... I've also been having these dreams."

"I knew it," Grover said.

"Hush, satyr," Chiron ordered.

"But it is his quest!" Grover's eyes were bright with excitement. "It must be!"

"It is. I've had the dreams too . . . but I'd never lead a quest. I can only ever accompany," Marisol added. What the heck is she talking about?

"Only the Oracle can determine." Chiron stroked his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, Percy, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt."

I laughed nervously and Mari swatted my arm. "A _what_?"

"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warned. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives."

"Oh."

"Zeus's master bolt," Chiron said, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers."

"And it's missing?"

"Stolen," Chiron said.

"By who?"

"By _whom_," Chiron corrected.

Once a teacher, always a teacher.

"By you two."

My mouth fell open. Mari began stacking cards and making a card house. Then she used her dagger and sliced it to bits.

"At least"—Chiron held up a hand—"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best,' Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' etcetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."

"But I didn't, we didn't—"

"Patience and listen, child," Chiron said. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne.

The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you two as his children. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. He thinks Marisol snuck into the throne room on her trip to Olympus and stole the bolt before handing it off to you to hide in the real world. Zeus believes he has found his thieves."

"But I've never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy! Mari didn't steal anything!" I protested.

"Well, I was on Olympus. But I hadn't stolen his stupid bolt." Mari added in as she shredded the cards even further.

Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds didn't seem to be parting around us, as Grover had promised. They were rolling straight over our valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid.

"Er, Percy ...?" Grover said. "We don't use the _c_-word to describe the Lord of the Sky."

"Perhaps _paranoid," _Chiron suggested.

"Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam..." He looked at me as if he actually expected me to remember question thirty-eight.

How could anyone accuse me of stealing a god's weapon? I couldn't even steal a slice of pizza from Gabe's poker party without getting busted. Chiron was waiting for an answer.

"Something about a golden net?" I guessed. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods ... they, like, trapped Zeus and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?"

"Correct," Chiron said. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation―"

"So have I," Mari mumbled.

"The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you've come along—the proverbial last straw," Chiron finished.

"But I'm just a kid! She's just a kid!"

"Percy," Grover cut in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, that he's fathered a pair of new mortal heroes who might be used as a weapon against you... Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?"

"But we didn't do anything. Poseidon—my dad . . . our dad—he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?"

Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Percy?"

"Bad?" I guessed. Mari cracked a grin and patted my shoulder. She was trying not to laugh . . . at a time like this.

"Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight."

"Bad," I repeated. Then she began laughing.

"And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath. Then your sister would see the same fate."

It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky.

* * *

I stiffened as Chiron said Percy would be first. I wouldn't let that happen. I couldn't let that happen. If anything I'd turn to . . . as a last resort maybe. No. the gods would never trust me if I did. No I can't just betray them because of Zeus. But I had to figure out how to keep. Percy safe.

* * *

_We _had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of us. I was furious.

"So I have to find the stupid bolt," I said. "And return it to Zeus."

"What better peace offering," Chiron said, "than to have the children of Poseidon return Zeus's property?"

"If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?"

"I believe I know." Chiron's expression was grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago ... well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle."

"Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?"

"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge."

I swallowed. "Good reason."

"You agree then?"

I looked at Grover, who nodded encouragingly. Easy for him. I was the one Zeus wanted to kill.

"All right," I said. "It's better than being turned into a dolphin."

"Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron said. "Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."

Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trap door. I pulled the cord. The door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place. The warm air from above smelled like mildew and rotten wood and something else ... a smell I remembered from biology class. Reptiles. The smell of snakes.

I held my breath and climbed.

The attic was filled with Greek hero junk: armor stands covered in cobwebs; once-bright shields pitted with rust; old leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers saying ITHAKA, CIRCE'S ISLE, and LAND OF THE AMAZONS. One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled _things_—severed hairy claws, huge yellow eyes, various other parts of monsters. A dusty mounted trophy on the wall looked like a giant snake's head, but with horns and a full set of shark's teeth. The plaque read, HYDRA HEAD #1, WOODSTOCK, N.Y., 1969.

By the window, sitting on a wooden tripod stool, was the most gruesome memento of all: a mummy.

Not the wrapped-in-cloth kind, but a human female body shriveled to a husk. She wore a tie-dyed sundress, lots of beaded necklaces, and a headband over long black hair. The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her eyes were glassy white slits, as if the real eyes had been replaced by marbles; she'd been dead a long, long time.

* * *

I sighed as I sat at the table with Chiron, waiting for my brother.

"Chiron, I've yet to tell him . . . but I have to if I want to go on this quest," I said with my head hung low.

"Relax child. I shall tell him. You might want him to see the letter. Let us wait until after the quest has been explained."

I nodded and Grover just stared at us.

"What are you talking about?" he asked as he stuffed the card shreddings into his mouth like ice chips.

"Percy . . . Percy is my twin brother. Our mom left me here, so that we would stay safe. Keeping us together would have gotten us killed," I whispered. He looked at me sadly, but I knew he thought my mother's actions were wise. It also explained some other things, like why I was claimed now instead of sooner. We sat in silence until the air rippled and Annabeth stared at me. "Sup Owl Head?"

"I . . . I can't believe you didn't tell me. Or Luke."

"Thalia. She knew. Sorta. Now put your cap on, he's coming back."

* * *

Looking at her sent chills up my back. And that was before she sat up on her stool and opened her mouth. A green mist poured from the mummy's mouth, coiling over the floor in thick tendrils, hissing like twenty thousand snakes. I stumbled over myself trying to get to the trap door, but it slammed shut.

Inside my head, I heard a voice, slithering into one ear and coiling around my brain: _I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask._

I wanted to say, _No thanks, wrong door, just looking for the bath room. _But I forced myself to take a deep breath.

The mummy wasn't alive. She was some kind of gruesome receptacle for something else, the power that was now swirling around me in the green mist. But its presence didn't feel evil, like my demonic math teacher Mrs. Dodds or the Minotaur. It felt more like the Three Fates I'd seen knitting the yarn outside the highway fruit stand: ancient, powerful, and definitely _not _human. But not particularly interested in killing me, either.

I got up the courage to ask, "What is my destiny?"

The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of me and around the table with the pickled monster-part jars. Suddenly there were four men sitting around the table, playing cards. Their faces became clearer. It was Smelly Gabe and his buddies.

My fists clenched, though I knew this poker party couldn't be real. It was an illusion, made out of mist.

Gabe turned toward me and spoke in the rasping voice of the Oracle: _You shall go west, and face the god who has turned._

His buddy on the right looked up and said in the same voice: _You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned._

The guy on the left threw in two poker chips, then said: _You shall he betrayed by one who calls you a friend._

Finally, Eddie, our building superior, delivered the worst line of all: _And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end._

The figures began to dissolve. At first I was too stunned to say anything, but as the mist retreated, coiling into a huge green serpent and slithering back into the mouth of the mummy, I cried, "Wait! What do you mean? What friend? What will I fail to save?"

The tail of the mist snake disappeared into the mummy's mouth. She reclined back against the wall. Her mouth closed tight, as if it hadn't been open in a hundred years. The attic was silent again, abandoned, nothing but a room full of mementos.

I got the feeling that I could stand here until I had cob webs, too, and I wouldn't learn anything else.

My audience with the Oracle was over.

"Well?" Chiron asked me.

I slumped into a chair at the pinochle table. "She said I would retrieve what was stolen."

Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!"

"What did the Oracle say _exactly?" _Chiron pressed. "This is important."

My ears were still tingling from the reptilian voice. "She ... she said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned."

"I knew it," Grover said.

Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"

I didn't want to tell him. Mari sighed as she played with the dagger, and didn't even flinched when the tip sliced her finger a bit. She knew, and I knew she was working hard to keep her mouth shut for me.

What friend would betray me? I didn't have that many.

*You've always got me, bro.*

*Thanks sis.*

And the last line—I would fail to save what mattered most. What kind of Oracle would send me on a quest and tell me, _Oh, by the way, you'll fail_

How could I confess that?

*Not easily. But it's still kind of funny when the oracle tells people that.*

*Okay now you're not helping.*

*Oops? Just tell him that's all.*

"No," I said. "That's about it."

He studied my face. "Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."

I got the feeling he knew I was holding back something bad, and he was trying to make me feel better.

"Okay," I said, anxious to change topics. "So where do I go? Who's this god in the west?"

"Ah, think, Percy," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?"

"Somebody else who wants to take over?" I guessed.

"Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken."

I thought about my dreams, the evil voice that had spoken from under the ground. "Hades."

Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."

A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?"

"A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."

"Yes, but—but Hades hates _all _heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a son of Poseidon..."

"A pair of hellhounds got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before he can take on the quest."

"Great," I muttered. "That's two major gods who want to kill me. . . and my sister."

"But a quest to ..." Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year."

"Grover, not helping," Mari said with a sigh as she fixed her finger.

"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."

"Notice how you're the leader here. No Marisol, all Percy," Mari said with a _no fair _look on her face.

A strange fire burned in my stomach. The weirdest thing was: it wasn't fear. It was anticipation. The desire for revenge. Hades had tried to kill me three times so far, with the Fury, the Minotaur, and the hellhound. He tried to hurt my sister. It was his fault my mother had disappeared in a flash of light. Now he was trying to frame me, my sister, and my dad for a theft we hadn't committed.

I was ready to take him on.

Besides, if my mother was in the Underworld …

_Whoa, boy,_ said the small part of my brain that was still sane. _You're a kid. Hades is a god._

*Yet you're not just some kid. You're a big three kid, tougher then you can imagine.*

Grover was trembling. He'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips.

The poor guy needed to complete a quest with me so he could get his searcher's license, whatever that was, but how could I ask him to do this quest, especially when the Oracle said I was destined to fail? This was suicide.

*Hey, we're your friends, your family. We won't just ditch you.*

"Look, if we know it's Hades," I told Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads."

"Suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron said. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades—and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?"

"You're saying I'm being used."

"I'm saying it's no accident Poseidon has claimed you now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs you."

My dad needs me.

Emotions rolled around inside me like bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. I didn't know whether to feel resentful or grateful or happy or angry. Poseidon had ignored me for twelve years. Now suddenly he needed me.

* * *

I sighed as Percy was told all of these things. Dad would only ever need me if Percy actually let me go. There was also the small matter of telling him the truth. Maybe I could just stick around and see what info I can dig up here at camp? No. I have to go on this quest. I have to help Percy, I have to make sure Zeus doesn't blow him up, and I have to find whoever stole the bolt and wring their neck.

* * *

I looked at Chiron. "You've known I was Poseidon's son all along, haven't you? And Mari, you knew about her too, right?"

"I had my suspicions. As I said ... I've spoken to the Oracle, too."

I got the feeling there was a lot he wasn't telling me about his prophecy, but I decided I couldn't worry about that right now. After all, I was holding back information too.

"So let me get this straight," I said. "I'm supposed go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead."

"Check," Chiron said.

"Find the most powerful weapon in the universe."

"Check."

"And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days."

"That's about right."

I looked at Grover, who gulped down the ace of hearts.

"Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asked weakly.

"You don't have to go," I told him. "I can't ask that of you."

"Oh ..." He shifted his hooves. "No ... it's just that satyrs and underground places ... well..." He took a deep breath, then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his T-shirt. "You saved my life, Percy. If ... if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down."

I felt so relieved I wanted to cry, though I didn't think that would be very heroic. Grover was the only friend I'd ever had for longer than a few months. I wasn't sure what good a satyr could do against the forces of the dead, but I felt better knowing he'd be with me.

"All the way, G-man." I turned to Chiron. "So where do we go? The Oracle just said to go west."

"The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America."

"Where?"

Chiron looked surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles."

"Oh," I said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane—"

"No!" Mari shrieked. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?"

I shook my head, feeling embarrassed. My mom had never taken me anywhere by plane. She'd always said we didn't have the money. Besides, her parents had died in a plane crash.

"Percy, think," Chiron said. "You are the son of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come down again alive."

Overhead, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed.

"Okay," I said, determined not to look at the storm. "So, I'll travel overland."

"That's right," Chiron said. "Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other has already volunteered, if you will accept her help."

"Gee," I said, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a quest like this? Marisol?"

The air shimmered behind Chiron. Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket.

"I've been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain," she said. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up."

"If you do say so yourself," I said. "I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?"

Her cheeks colored. "Do you want my help or not?"

The truth was, I did. I needed all the help I could get.

Annabeth smiled at this.

"A trio," I said. "That'll work."

"Wait, wait, and wait. I have to go on this quest," Mari said as she stood up. "It's gotta be me."

"I've already been accepted. Maybe you should have asked sooner," Annabeth shot back.

"No, it _has _to be me. Zeus _told me_ that I have to go. Last night in a dream. I have to go or he'll kill Percy!" I argued. Everybody froze.

"What are you talking about?" I asked her. She looked at me, and for the first time since I've known her, she looked terrified.

"Zeus blames me for stealing the bolt and he says that I have to go with you or he'll make me watch him kill you. But I also have to go . . . because . . . well . . . " she looked ready to run.

"Percy . . . Marisol is not just your half-sister," Chiron said. I looked at him. What else could she be? "Child, she's your twin sister."

So, do you know how it feels to have a centaur that's sending you on a suicide mission tell you the girl who's been told to go too or else you die is your twin? Well, it doesn't feel good. I actually felt ready to puke.

"What?"

"Mom . . . she left me here. The story I told you, you're my big brother," she mumbled.

"No way. Mom never told me . . . it's not possible . . . "

"Think about it. We have the same dad, the same _birthday_, and if I was a boy or you were a girl, we'd look exactly the same. We already have the same hair and eyes. You and I have been communicating telepathically since we could even think, and Percy, please don't hate me."

"Hate you? I don't hate you. I want to _protect you_. You can't go on this quest; I'm not letting you get hurt."

"No, I have to go. I think it could still count as a trio because," she turned to Chiron, "he and I share the same parents, we're twins. We share a telepathic connection, maybe a physical one. We were one person before birth, please tell me it counts."

"It might, but still, it'd be far more dangerous with both of your scents."

"Marisol I don't know if―"

"Please," she begged. "I have to do this. I've been at this camp for_ever;_ this is my chance to help somebody I love. Liz and Luca went on a quest to the underworld, they came back and I had to watch them die. If I would have gone, maybe I could have done something. Now's my chance to do something. Please Percy."

She was definitely good with puppy dog eyes. I sighed before I gave in. "Fine. You can come."

"Excellent," Chiron said. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own."

Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather.

"No time to waste," Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing."

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**Okay,I'm not sure I like how this went. Tell me whatcha think. I've decided to do mass uploads instead of uploading every time I finish a new chapter.**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	11. Chapter 10

Hey. I'm back for the second time today. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me forty eight days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to Caatharina and hsy. Thanks for your support.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**I Ruin a Perfectly Good Bus**

* * *

It didn't take me long to pack. I decided to leave the Minotaur horn in my cabin, which left me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me.

The camp store loaned me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. These coins were as big as Girl Scout cookies and had images of various Greek gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron told us, but Olympians never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in handy for non-mortal transactions—whatever that meant. He gave Mari, Annabeth, and me each a canteen of nectar and a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It was god food, Chiron reminded us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally.

Mari was bringing her dagger in a sheath that was attached to a leather belt around her waist (that would definitely get us caught by some metal detectors) , two sets of clothing, a baggie of drachmas she hung on her belt like she hung her dagger, and a spiral notebook that she was going to use to write a log in. when I said it was a journal she whacked me with the hardcover spiral notebook and said journals were girly and that she didn't _do _girly.

Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she told me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She carried a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I was sure the knife would get us busted the first time we went through a metal detector.

Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's "So Yesterday," both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes.

We waved good-bye to the other campers, took one last look at the strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hiked up Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus.

Chiron was waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stood the surfer dude I'd seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy was the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I could only see extra peepers on his hands, face and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron told me. "He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

I heard footsteps behind us.

Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes.

"Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told me. "And I thought ... um, maybe you could use these."

He handed me the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They even smelled kind of normal.

Luke said, _"Maia!"_

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling me so much, I dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared.

"Awesome!" Grover said.

Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days..." His expression turned sad.

I didn't know what to say. It was cool enough that Luke had come to say good-bye. I'd been afraid he might resent me for getting so much attention the last few days. But here he was giving me a magic gift... It made me blush almost as much as Annabeth.

"Hey, man," I said. "Thanks."

"Listen, Percy ..." Luke looked uncomfortable. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just ... kill some monsters for me, okay?"

We shook hands. Luke patted Grover's head between his horns, then gave a good-bye hug to Annabeth, who looked like she might pass out.

* * *

I waited until Luke said his goodbyes to everyone else and I smiled at him. Time for the siblings to split up, eh?

"Take care of yourself Mari. Come back alive." Luke said to me. I nodded and he wrapped me up in a hug, resting his chin on my head. "Don't let what happened to me happen to you."

"I won't. Take care of camp while I'm gone."

He nodded and pulled away, then slipped a sheet of paper out of his pocket. He unfolded it and showed me the symbol that was drawn on it and my heart stopped. That was my drawing.

"Where did you―"

"Laundry day. Don't worry, I'll keep this between us. I'll get rid of it for you. You might want this though," he said as he stuffed the drawing into his pocket and pulled out a leather band. He quickly tied it onto my wrist and I saw there was a silver L imbedded into the leather. "To keep you safe."

I smiled and hugged him one more time before he left. Luke definitely was one of the few people in the world I'd ever be able to count on. We'd been through so much together. I was glad he was on my side.

* * *

After Luke was gone, I told her, "You're hyperventilating."

"Am not."

"You let him capture the flag instead of you, didn't you?"

"Oh ... why do I want to go anywhere with you, Percy?"

She stomped down the other side of the hill, where a white SUV waited on the shoulder of the road. Argus followed, jingling his car keys. I picked up the flying shoes and had a sudden bad feeling. I looked at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

He shook his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air ... that would not be wise for you."

I nodded, disappointed, but then I got an idea. "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes lit up. "Me?"

Pretty soon we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy was ready for launch.

_"Maia!" _he shouted.

He got off the ground okay, but then fell over sideways so his backpack dragged through the grass. The winged shoes kept bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron called after him. "You just need practice!"

"Aaaaa!" Grover went flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawn mower, heading toward the van. Mari began laughing and set off to capture the flying goat-boy before he could hurt himself.

Before I could follow, Chiron caught my arm. "I should have trained you better, Percy," he said. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason—they all got more training."

"That's okay. I just wish—"

I stopped myself because I was about to sound like a brat. I was wishing my dad had given me a cool magic item to help on the quest, something as good as Luke's flying shoes, or Annabeth's invisible cap.

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cried. "I can't let you get away without this."

He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and handed it to me. It was an ordinary disposable ballpoint, black ink, removable cap. Probably cost thirty cents.

"Gee," I said. "Thanks."

"Percy, that's a gift from your father. I've kept it for years, not knowing you were who I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You are the one."

I remembered the field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, when I'd vaporized Mrs. Dodds. Chiron had thrown me a pen that turned into a sword. Could this be ... ?

I took off the cap, and the pen grew longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather-wrapped grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs. It was the first weapon that actually felt balanced in my hand.

"The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron told me.

"Its name is Anaklusmos."

"'Riptide,'" I translated, surprised the Ancient Greek came so easily.

"Use it only for emergencies," Chiron said, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but this sword wouldn't harm them in any case."

I looked at the wickedly sharp blade. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals?" How could it not?"

"The sword is celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blade will pass through mortals like an illusion. They simply are not important enough for the blade to kill. And I should warn you: as a demigod, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are _twice _as vulnerable."

"Good to know."

"Now recap the pen."

I touched the pen cap to the sword tip and instantly Riptide shrank to a ballpoint pen again. I tucked it in my pocket, a little nervous, because I was famous for losing pens at school.

"You can't," Chiron said.

"Can't what?"

"Lose the pen," he said.

"It is enchanted. It will always reappear in your pocket. Try it."

I was wary, but I threw the pen as far as I could down the hill and watched it disappear in the grass.

"It may take a few moments," Chiron told me. "Now check your pocket."

Sure enough, the pen was there.

"Okay, that's _extremely _cool," I admitted. "But what if a mortal sees me pulling out a sword?"

Chiron smiled. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

"Mist?"

"Yes. Read _The Iliad. _It's full of references to the stuff. Whenever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go to fit things into their version of reality."

"What about Marisol? You're not letting her go with just a dagger are you?" I asked worriedly. I knew she was a skilled fighter but a dagger . . . that just doesn't cut it.

"Oh no worries, my dear boy. She has her own sword. Her father made it just for her, and she found it when she was younger. It's a counter part to yours, but it doesn't have a history without her. Parlía."

"Seaside."

"Correct."

"Well, that's a little obvious as a Poseidon kid's sword."

"Is Riptide not?"

"Touché."

I put Riptide back in my pocket.

For the first time, the quest felt real. I was actually leaving Half-Blood Hill.

I was heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone. (Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be worse than sending up a flare.) I had no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

"Chiron ..." I said. "When you say the gods are immortal... I mean, there was a time _before _them, right?"

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like ... before the gods?"

Chiron pursed his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."

"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So ... even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up _everything, _right?"

Chiron gave me a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, Percy. The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. _They _still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure end less pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

"Our destiny ... assuming we know what that is."

"Relax," Chiron told me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

"Relax," I said. "I'm very relaxed."

When I got to the bottom of the hill, I looked back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron was now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur.

Argus drove us out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt weird to be on a highway again, Marisol and Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seemed like a fantasy. I found myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parents' car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"So far so good," I told Annabeth. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

She gave me an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain."

"Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look ... we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?"

She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is _hugely _disrespectful.

Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives."

"Oh, forget it."

"Now, if she'd invented pizza—_that _I could understand."

"I said, forget it!"

In the front seat, Argus smiled. He didn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winked at me.

"So . . ." I said as I turned to Mari. "We're twins . . ."

"Yeah . . . I'm sorry I dumped that on you. I just . . . I found out a couple of days before you got to camp. It made everything click, and I don't know. I just felt like I needed the right time to tell you once you got here. Then we were claimed and it just didn't . . . I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I mean, I kind of wish we hadn't been separated, or that I was at least left at camp with you. I can't imagine what it must have felt like to be all alone. But don't worry, I'm going to be your big brother and there's nothing anyone or anything can do to stop that."

She looked at me with hope and suspicion in her sea green eyes. "You mean it?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Then she just about killed me in a hug, but I didn't mind. At least we weren't the siblings who were always arguing or bothering each other.

* * *

So, I know the campers were my family, but Perseus Jackson really was something different. I know that if this had happened and Elizabeth and Lucas and Andrew and all of the others that had raised me at camp were here, alive, they would have stood by me. Heck, they would have formed some kind of demigod wall when those hellhounds had attacked. The only people who hadn't ditched me from that moment on were Luke, Connor, Travis, Annabeth, Grover, Will, Percy, and Chiron.

Then I dumped the atomic _we're twins _bomb on Percy and he freaked out a bit, but he was really accepting. Now here he is, promising we'll be a family, and I believe him.

I'm probably the luckiest girl, no, luckiest _person_ alive to have him as a brother.

* * *

Traffic slowed us down in Queens. By the time we got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain.

Argus dropped us at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox was a soggy flyer with my picture on it: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY?

I ripped it down before Annabeth and Grover could notice, and Mari just pretended she couldn't read my mind for that moment in time.

Argus unloaded our bags, made sure we got our bus tickets, then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulled out of the parking lot.

I thought about how close I was to my old apartment. On a normal day, my mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe was probably up there right now, playing poker, not even missing her.

Grover shouldered his backpack. He gazed down the street in the direction I was looking. "You want to know why she married him, Percy?"

I stared at him. "Were you reading my mind or something?"

"Just your emotions." He shrugged. "Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

I nodded, wondering what else Grover might've forgotten to tell me. Mari stood next to me to hear whatever Grover was going to say.

"Your mom married Gabe for _you," _Grover told me. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. The guy has this aura…. Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him on you, and you haven't been near him for a week."

"Thanks," I said as Mari giggled. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better."

It didn't, but I forced myself not to show it. _I'll see her again_, I thought. _She_ _isn't gone._

I wondered if Grover could still read my emotions, mixed up as they were. I was glad he and Annabeth were with me, but I felt guilty that I hadn't been straight with them. I hadn't told them the real reason I'd said yes to this crazy quest. Mari was sneaky enough to get the answer from my head but, lucky enough for me, she was on board with my motives.

The truth was, I didn't care about retrieving Zeus's lightning bolt, or saving the world, or even helping my father out of trouble. The more I thought about it, I resented Poseidon for never visiting me, never helping my mom, never even sending a lousy child-support check. He'd only claimed me because he needed a job done.

All I cared about was my mom. Hades had taken her unfairly, and Hades was going to give her back.

_You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, _the Oracle whispered in my mind. _You will fail to save what matters most in the end._

_Shut up, _I told it.

* * *

So, I was on board with Percy, I was going to help him save mom. Sure, she had abandoned me and I didn't like her for that, and sure dad had let me pass him by without a thought, and I wanted him to pay for that, but this was my family. If mom made Percy happy then I was going to help him bust her outta hell. Not like this world was such a dandy place for her anyway, but still. Here she had Percy.

Who knows, maybe after summer ended I could go home with Percy, and . . . have a real family.

* * *

The rain kept coming down.

We got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable.

She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Marisol and I weren't too bad either.

The game ended when I tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappeared—core, stem, and all. Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but Annabeth, Marisol, and I were too busy cracking up.

Finally the bus came. As we stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air like he smelled his favorite school cafeteria delicacy—enchiladas.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said tensely. "Maybe it's nothing."

But I could tell it wasn't nothing. I started looking over my shoulder, too. I was relieved when we finally got on board and found seats together in the back of the bus. We stowed our back packs. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers got on, Annabeth clamped her hand onto my knee.

"Percy."

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She wore a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadowed her face, and she carried a big paisley purse. When she tilted her head up, her black eyes glittered, and my heart skipped a beat.

It was Mrs. Dodds. Older, more withered, but definitely the same evil face.

I scrunched down in my seat. Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise they looked exactly like Mrs. Dodds—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers.

They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves.

The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan. "She didn't stay dead long," I said, trying to keep my voice from quivering. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're _lucky_," Annabeth said. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover whimpered. _"Di immortales!"_

"Oh gods. We have to figure out how to get out of here. Oh why couldn't we hop on a different but?" Mari whined.

"It's okay," Annabeth said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moaned.

"A back exit?" she suggested.

There wasn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," I said. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Mari reminded me. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?"

She thought about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof ... ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain. Mari clutched my hand and began mumbling about a fear of the dark. Just great.

Mrs. Dodds got up. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I," said the second sister.

"So do I," said the third sister.

"Well that's weird. Three old ladies, one bathroom, and those dumb mortal don't think anything is wrong?" Mari hissed to herself.

They all started coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth said. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?"

"You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away. Mari, you can squeeze under the seats and crawl right?"

"But you guys—"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth said. "You're a pair of children of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"We can't just leave you."

"Don't worry about us," Grover said. "Go!"

My hands trembled. I felt like a coward, but I took the Yankees cap and put it on..

When I looked down, my body wasn't there anymore. Mari slid off her seat and laid on her stomach before she used her elbows to crawl forward at a steady pace

I started creeping up the aisle. I managed to get up ten rows, then duck into an empty seat just as the Furies walked past.

* * *

I crawled under the seats and bit back several curses. There was gum webs everywhere, spider webs, and trash on the ground. Gross? Definitely. I think facing the furies would be easier than crawling through this shix. I kept pace with Percy and froze when he hopped into the seat above me and squished me between the gum covered seats and the ground. Darn it.

The furies passed, and one froze, facing our direction.

A minute later it moved on with its sisters and I let out a sigh. I kept crawling and I was so very glad I still had my change of clothes and my journal in my bag. Annabeth had my nectar and ambrosia, and Percy had our money in his bag, which he left with Annabeth.

I kept moving until the drama started.

* * *

Mrs. Dodds stopped, sniffing, and looked straight at me. My heart was pounding.

Apparently she didn't see anything. She and her sisters kept going.

I was free. I made it to the front of the bus. We were almost through the Lincoln Tunnel now. I was about to press the emergency stop button when I heard hideous wailing from the back row.

The old ladies were not old ladies anymore. Their faces were still the same—I guess those couldn't get any uglier— but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surrounded Grover and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw _something, _all right.

"They're not here!" Annabeth yelled. "They're gone!"

The Furies raised their whips.

Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it.

What I did next was so impulsive and dangerous I should've been named ADHD poster child of the year.

The bus driver was distracted, trying to see what was going on in his rearview mirror.

Still invisible, I grabbed the wheel from him and jerked it to the left. Everybody howled as they were thrown to the right, and I heard what I hoped was the sound of three Furies smashing against the windows.

"Hey!" the driver yelled. "Hey—whoa!"

We wrestled for the wheel. The bus slammed against the side of the tunnel, grinding metal, throwing sparks a mile behind us. We careened out of the Lincoln Tunnel and back into the rainstorm, people and monsters tossed around the bus, cars plowed aside like bowling pins.

Somehow the driver found an exit. We shot off the highway, through half a dozen traffic lights, and ended up barreling down one of those New Jersey rural roads where you can't believe there's so much nothing right across the river from New York. There were woods to our left, the Hudson River to our right, and the driver seemed to be veering toward the river.

Another great idea: I hit the emergency brake.

The bus wailed, spun a full circle on the wet asphalt, and crashed into the trees. The emergency lights came on. The door flew open. The bus driver was the first one out, the passengers yelling as they stampeded after him. I stepped into the driver's seat and let them pass.

* * *

I forced myself against the wall as the bus swerved everywhere and I was thrown against the metal wall that was behind the bus driver's seat and I held back a yelp as some glass from a bottle decided to lodge themselves into my left shoulder. I sprung into a crouch as everyone rushed off the now stopped bus. I was looking at the exit as I was free to leave and drag Percy with me, but our friends were obviously in trouble.

* * *

The Furies regained their balance. They lashed their whips at Annabeth while she waved her knife and yelled in Ancient Greek, telling them to back off. Grover threw tin cans.

I looked at the open doorway. I was free to go, but I couldn't leave my friends. I took off the invisible cap. "Hey!"

The Furies turned, baring their yellow fangs at me, and the exit suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. Mrs. Dodds stalked up the aisle, just as she used to do in class, about to deliver my F- math test. Every time she flicked her whip, red flames danced along the barbed leather.

Her two ugly sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled toward me like huge nasty lizards. Mari sprang up from behind the driver's seat and stood with me. I noticed some blood sliding down her left arm and figured she better be a righty with a sword or we were done for.

"Perseus and Marisol Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said, in an accent that was definitely from somewhere farther south than Georgia. "You have offended the gods. You shall die."

"I liked you better as a math teacher," I told her. Mari snickered and took a pen out of her pocket. It must be Seaside.

She growled. Annabeth and Grover moved up behind the Furies cautiously, looking for an opening. I took the ballpoint pen out of my pocket and uncapped it. Riptide elongated into a shimmering double-edged sword. Mari uncapped the pen and a sword spouted out, she smiled at me and then began hissing something in Greek at the furies.

The Furies hesitated.

Mrs. Dodds had felt Riptide's blade before. She obviously didn't like seeing it again. "Submit now," she hissed. "And  
you will not suffer eternal torment."

"Nice try," I told her.

"Percy, look out!" Annabeth cried.

Mrs. Dodds lashed her whip around my sword hand while the Furies on the either side lunged at me.

My hand felt like it was wrapped in molten lead, but I managed not to drop Riptide. I stuck the Fury on the left with its hilt, sending her toppling backward into a seat. I turned and sliced the Fury on the right. As soon as the blade connected with her neck, she screamed and exploded into dust. Annabeth got Mrs. Dodds in a wrestler's hold and yanked her backward while Grover ripped the whip out of her hands.

"Ow!" he yelled. "Ow! Hot! Hot!"

"Did you expect it to be cold?" Mari yelled as she got behind me and covered me,

The Fury I'd hilt-slammed came at me again, talons ready, but Mari's sword went through her neck and she broke open like a piñata.

Mrs. Dodds was trying to get Annabeth off her back. She kicked, clawed, hissed and bit, but Annabeth held on while Grover got Mrs. Dodds's legs tied up in her own whip. Finally they both shoved her backward into the aisle. Mrs. Dodds tried to get up, but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down.

"Zeus will destroy you!" she promised. "Hades will have your soul!"

_"Braccas meas vescimini!"_ I yelled. I wasn't sure where the Latin came from. I think it meant "Eat my pants!" Thunder shook the bus. The hair rose on the back of my neck.

"Get out!" Annabeth yelled at us. "Now!" I didn't need any encouragement.

We rushed outside and found the other passengers wandering around in a daze, arguing with the driver, or running around in circles yelling, "We're going to die!" A Hawaiian-shirted tourist with a camera snapped my photograph before I could recap my sword.

"Our bags!" Grover realized. "We left our—"

_BOOOOOM!_

* * *

I groaned as the bus went boom and I recapped Seaside. I stuck it in my pocket before I grabbed Percy's hand and tried to drag him along. Sadly, that never works.

* * *

The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told me Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead.

"Run!" Annabeth said. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!"

We plunged into the woods as the rain poured down, the bus in flames behind us, and nothing but darkness ahead.

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**Okay,I'm not sure I like how this went. Well, I'm never sure. I always dislike my writing, it's a me thing. Tell me whatcha think. I've decided to do mass uploads instead of uploading every time I finish a new chapter.**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	12. Chapter 11

Hey. I'm back for the second time today. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me forty eight days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to koolkimoov and percabeth12141711. Thanks for following :)

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium**

* * *

In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong.

For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up your day.

So there we were, Annabeth and Marisol and Grover and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses.

Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once."

"Never knew they could be so hideous," Marisol mumbled as she played with her dagger. I don't think she minded as blood slid from her shoulder down her arm.

*I'll fix it later,* she muttered every time I thought about it.

I was pretty much in shock myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears. But Annabeth kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better."

"All our money was back there," I reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything."

"Well, maybe if you two hadn't decided to jump into the fight—"

"What did you want us to do? Let you get killed?"

"You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine."

"Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine."

"Shut up, goat boy," said Annabeth.

Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans ... a perfectly good bag of tin cans."

* * *

So, why am I not in the Percy/Annabeth argument? Because I know Annabeth well enough to know that arguing with her is senseless if you don't have the winning points. Oh and because I'm not stupid. They call her Wise Girl for a reason.

* * *

We sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry.

After a few minutes, Annabeth fell into line next to me. "Look, I..." Her voice faltered. "I appreciate your coming back for us, okay? That was really brave."

"We're a team, right?"

She was silent for a few more steps. "It's just that if you died ... aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world."

"Gee way to make him feel important," Marisol said sarcastically from a few feet ahead. Gotta love my sister, right? I hope you can sense my sarcasm in that statement.

The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. I couldn't see anything of Annabeth except a glint of her blond hair.

"You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" I asked her.

"No ... only short field trips. My dad—"

"The history professor."

"Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood _is _my home." She was rushing her words out now, as if she were afraid somebody might try to stop her. "At camp you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not."

If I didn't know better, I could've sworn I heard doubt in her voice. "You're pretty good with that knife," I said.

"You think so?"

"Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me."

I couldn't really see, but I thought she might've smiled.

"You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you ... Something funny back on the bus ..."

Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill _toot-toot-toot, _like the sound of an owl being tortured. I heard Mari clap her hands over her ears and by the smacking sound that action made, you can guess I winced. My ears hurt now.

"Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!"

He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff. Instead of finding a path, I immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on my head.

Add to the list of superpowers I did _not _have: infrared vision.

"Yeah I think you're using growth magic. Thanks for the headache super goat," Mari laughed as she rubbed her forehead.

After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food.

I realized I hadn't eaten anything unhealthy since I'd arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where we lived on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. This boy needed a double cheeseburger.

We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell.

It wasn't a fast-food restaurant like I'd hoped. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible for me to read, because if there's anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it's red cursive neon English.

To me, it looked like: _ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM._

"What the heck does that say?" I asked.

"I don't know," Annabeth said.

She loved reading so much, I'd forgotten she was dyslexic, too.

"Am I the only one who thinks it says At-n-you mess G-deran gomez mep-ru-I'm?" Mari said as she sounded out whatever she was seeing.

"Doubtful," Annabeth muttered.

Grover translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium."

Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken.

I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers.

"Hey ..." Grover warned.

"The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open."

"Snack bar," I said wistfully.

"Snack bar," she agreed.

"Are you two crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird."

"I agree. It's giving me the shivers," Mari mumbled as she rubbed her arms.

We ignored them.

* * *

So, when I feel like something's off, or something bad will happen, I start to shiver or shudder. I never shiver, or shudder, because it's cold. I don't get cold. So obviously the goose bumps and shudders were from my super senses.

What death trap did Percy want to lead us too this time?

* * *

The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps.

_"Bla-ha-ha!" _he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!"

We stopped at the warehouse door.

"Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters."

"Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him.

"All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"

"Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian."

"You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," I reminded him.

"Those are vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are ... looking at me."

"What about you?" I shot at Mari who was trying to drag me away.

"I don't eat junk food. If I did, I wouldn't be as athletic or demigodly as I am. Plus they don't serve junk at camp, and I've been at camp for um _ever._ So no, I don't eat junk."

Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady.

Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?"

"They're ... um ..." Annabeth started to say.

"We're orphans," I said.

"Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!"

"We got separated from our caravan," I said. "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?"

"Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area."

We thanked her and went inside.

Annabeth muttered to me, "Circus caravan?"

"Always have a strategy, right?"

"Your head is full of kelp."

* * *

Annabeth seems to know Percy even better than I do. Or, she's a better judge of character than I am. Either way it took me a while to find our my brother wasn't the smartest, but he's my brother. Gotta love him right?

We walked into the creepy warehouse and I tried to put the sound of locks clicking in the _it's only your imagination _pile.

It worked.

* * *

The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. But mostly, I was thinking about food.

Go ahead, call me an idiot for walking into a strange lady's shop like that just because I was hungry, but I do impulsive stuff sometimes. Plus, you've never smelled Aunty Em's burgers. The aroma was like laughing gas in the dentist's chair—it made everything else go away. I barely noticed Grover's nervous whimpers, or the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow me, or the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind us.

All I cared about was finding the dining area. And sure enough, there it was at the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front.

"Please, sit down," Aunty Em said.

"Awesome," I said.

"Um," Grover said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am."

Before I could jab him in the ribs, Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans."

"Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said.

Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly, so I figured it must've been my imagination.

"Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child."

Only later did I wonder how she knew Annabeth's name, even though we had never introduced ourselves.

Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she'd brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries.

I was halfway through my burger before I remembered to breathe.

Annabeth slurped her shake.

Marisol made the water in her untouched glass swirl around.

Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat.

"What's that hissing noise?" he asked.

I listened, but didn't hear anything. Annabeth shook her head.

"Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."

"I take vitamins. For my ears."

"That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax."

Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her head dress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, having someone stare at me when I couldn't see her face, but I was feeling satisfied after the burger, and a little sleepy, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess.

* * *

Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I was _not _eating anything a stranger gives me. I didn't touch anything and I swirled my finger tip around the top of the glass, willing the water to follow the swirling motion. It relaxed me, but not enough to get my guard down. Why?

I'd heard the hissing too.

* * *

"So, you sell gnomes," I said, trying to sound interested.

"Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know."

"A lot of business on this road?"

"Not so much, no. Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get."

My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues.

But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified.

"Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."

"You make these statues yourself?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her.

Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?"

"It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price."

I wasn't sure what she meant, but I felt bad for her. Mari stiffened beside me and I saw the fry fall from her mouth.

"Faded? What do you mean _faded_?" she asked as she picked up her drink and held it to her lips, her eyes on the ice cubes.

"They passed on Marisol. They did not have enough belief to live. So they passed on like everyone will eventually," Aunty Em replied. I poked Mari's arm hard for being so rude to Aunty Em.

My eyelids kept getting heavier, my full stomach making me sleepy. Poor old lady. Who would want to hurt somebody so nice?

"Percy?" Annabeth was shaking me to get my attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting."

She sounded tense. I wasn't sure why. Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but if Aunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything.

"Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those."

She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly.

"We really should go."

"Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!"

"Time to go," Mari chirped as she bounced up and grabbed my hand. She tried to pull me up but I stayed put. I didn't want to leave. I felt full and content. Aunty Em was so nice. I wanted to stay with her a while.

"Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"

"A pose?" Annabeth asked warily.

"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children."

Mari shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy—"

"Sure we can," I said.

I was irritated with Annabeth and Marisol for being so bossy, so rude to an old lady who'd just fed us for free. "It's just a photo, girls. What's the harm?"

"Yes, girls," the woman purred. "No harm."

I could tell Marisol nor Annabeth liked it, but they allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door, into the garden of statues.

Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girls in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side."

"Not much light for a photo," I remarked.

"Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"

"Where's your camera?" Grover asked.

Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?"

Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand."

"Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear."

She still had no camera in her hands.

"Percy—" Annabeth said.

Some instinct warned me to listen to Annabeth, but I was fighting the sleepy feeling, the comfortable lull that came from the food and the old lady's voice.

"I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil..."

"Percy, something's wrong," Marisol insisted.

"Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"

"That _is _Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped.

"Look away from her!" Annabeth shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished. Her invisible hands pushed Grover and me both off the bench while Marisol sprung to the ground and hide her eyes.

I was on the ground, looking at Aunt Em's sandaled feet.

I could hear Grover scrambling off in one direction, Annabeth in another. But I was too dazed to move.

Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me. My eyes rose to Aunty Em's hands, which had turned gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails.

I almost looked higher, but somewhere off to my left Annabeth screamed, "No! Don't!"

More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above me, from ... from about where Aunty Em's head would be.

"Run!" Grover bleated. I heard him racing across the gravel, yelling, _"Maia!" _to kick-start his flying sneakers.

I couldn't move. I stared at Aunty Em's gnarled claws, and tried to fight the groggy trance the old woman had put me in.

"Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she told me soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up."

I fought the urge to obey. Instead I looked to one side and saw one of those glass spheres people put in gardens— a gazing ball. I could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents.

Aunty Em.

Aunty "M."

How could I have been so stupid?

*Simple, you didn't listen to us!* Mari yelled in my head. I could imagine her stop crawling for a second just to yell at me.

Think, I told myself. How did Medusa die in the myth?

But I couldn't think. Something told me that in the myth Medusa had been asleep when she was attacked by my namesake, Perseus. She wasn't anywhere near asleep now. If she wanted, she could take those talons right now and rake open my face.

* * *

I crawled away from Percy and everyone else for two reasons. One, I know dragging Percy is useless because it never works. Two, I needed to get out Luca's dagger and I couldn't do that if it was digging into my thigh as I crawled.

The glass in my shoulder didn't help either. I'd have to fix that.

* * *

"The Gray-Eyed One did this to me, Percy," Medusa said, and she didn't sound anything like a monster. Her voice invited me to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother. "Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this."

"Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. "Run, Percy!"

"Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer."

"No," I muttered. I tried to make my legs move.

"Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest, Percy? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain."

"Percy!" Behind me, I heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Grover yelled, "Duck!"

I turned, and there he was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with his winged shoes fluttering, Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by ears and nose alone.

"Duck!" he yelled again. "I'll get her!"

That finally jolted me into action. Knowing Grover, I was sure he'd miss Medusa and nail me.

* * *

I hid behind Uncle Ferdinand and pulled out the dagger. I used the blade as a mirror and saw Grover going in with a tree branch. So, this was way better than cable television. I also managed to get the bigger shards of glass out of my shoulder while watching. I poured some water from a birdbath onto my shoulder and felt the wound close.

Finally.

Then there was the sound of monster-ball and the roaring monster that is my father's ex.

* * *

I dove to one side.

_Thwack!_

At first I figured it was the sound of Grover hitting a tree. Then Medusa roared with rage.

"You miserable satyr," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!"

"That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back.

I scrambled away and hid in the statuary while Grover swooped down for another pass.

_Ker-whack!_

"Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spit ting.

Right next to me, Annabeth's voice said, "Percy!"

I jumped so high my feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that!"

Annabeth took off her Yankees cap and became visible. 'You have to cut her head off."

"What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here."

"Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but..." Annabeth swallowed, as if she were about to make a difficult admission. "But you've got the better weapon. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—you've got a chance."

"What? I can't—"

"Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?"

She pointed to a pair of statue lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to stone by the monster.

Annabeth grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better." She studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—"

"Would you speak English?"

"I _am!" _She tossed me the glass ball.

"Just look at her in the glass. _Never _look at her directly."

"Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!"

_"Roooaaarrr!"_

"Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch.

"Hurry," Annabeth told me. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash. I'm not ever sure where Mari is but with her messed up shoulder she's not much use."

I didn't even think about arguing with for my sister as I took out my pen and uncapped it. The bronze blade of Riptide elongated in my hand.

I followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa's hair.

I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I would only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green tinted glass, I saw her.

Grover was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time he flew a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and pulled him off course. He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!"

Medusa was about to lunge at him when I yelled, "Hey!"

I advanced on her, which wasn't easy, holding a sword and a glass ball. If she charged, I'd have a hard time defending myself.

But she let me approach—twenty feet, ten feet.

I could see the reflection of her face now. Surely it wasn't really _that _ugly. The green swirls of the gazing ball must be distorting it, making it look worse.

*An ex is always ugly,* Mari snickered.

"You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't."

I hesitated, fascinated by the face I saw reflected in the glass—the eyes that seemed to burn straight through the green tint, making my arms go weak.

From the cement grizzly, Grover moaned, "Percy, don't listen to her!"

Medusa cackled. "Too late."

She lunged at me with her talons.

I slashed up with my sword, heard a sickening _shlock!,_ then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating.

Something fell to the ground next to my foot. It took all my willpower not to look. I could feel warm ooze soaking into my sock, little dying snake heads tugging at my shoelaces.

"Oh, yuck," Grover said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thing gurgling and steaming. "Mega-yuck."

Annabeth came up next to me, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil. She said, "Don't move."

Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice.

"Are you okay?" she asked me, her voice trembling. Marisol appeared behind her and looked at me worriedly.

"Yeah," I decided, though I felt like throwing up my double cheeseburger. "Why didn't ... why didn't the head evaporate?"

"Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," she said. "Same as your minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you."

"Percy, you're green," Mari mumbled as she walked toward me.

Grover moaned as he climbed down from the grizzly statue. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green rasta cap hung from one of his little goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves. The magic sneakers were flying aimlessly around his head.

"The Red Baron," I said. "Good job, man."

He managed a bashful grin. "That really was _not _fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? _Not _fun."

"Hey, that was fun. Seriously, it's better than cable television. I've never been happier to have a reflective dagger in my life," Mari laughed. Grover stuck his tongue out at her and she just kept laughing.

He snatched his shoes out of the air. I recapped my sword. Together, the four of us stumbled back to the ware house. We found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. We plopped it on the table where we'd eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak.

Finally I said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?"

Annabeth flashed me an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him."

My face was burning. "Oh, so now it's _my _fault we met Medusa."

Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of my voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?'"

"Forget it," I said. "You're impossible."

"You're insufferable."

"You're—"

"Hey!" Grover interrupted. "You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even _get _migraines. What are we going to do with the head?"

I stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS!

I was angry, not just with Annabeth or her mom, but with all the gods for this whole quest, for getting us blown off the road and in two major fights the very first day out from camp. At this rate, we'd never make it to L.A. alive, much less before the summer solstice.

What had Medusa said?

_Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue._

I got up. "I'll be back."

"Percy," Annabeth called after me. "What are you—"

* * *

So, watching Annabeth insult my father and Percy insult my cousin wasn't fun. I kept my mouth shut, but I really wanted to smack them both. Their bickering is annoying, and when I'm annoyed I get violent.

"Annabeth, stop fighting with Percy. I don't feel like smacking you today," I grumbled as we waited for my brother to return.

"Excuse me? He's blaming my mom for―"

"Oh I know, and he's right. Your _brilliant _mom decided to make a monster instead of just killing the witch. Real smart, make _us _suffer because of _her _stupid sensitivity toward her damned temple. Real nice," I growled as I slammed my dagger into the steel picnic table. The celestial bronze sliced into the metal and Annabeth knew I was in no mood to argue. So she decided to talk to Grover. About what? About this unusual and unfortunate series of events. I kinda . . . maybe . . . tuned them out. Sorry.

* * *

I searched the back of the warehouse until I found Medusa's office. Her account book showed her six most recent sales, all shipments to the Underworld to decorate Hades and Persephone's garden. According to one freight bill, the Underworld's billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. I folded up the bill and stuffed it in my pocket.

In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins. I rummaged around the rest of the office until I found the right-size box.

I went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip:

_The Gods_

_MountOlympus_

_600th Floor,_

_EmpireState Building_

_New York, NY_

_With best wishes,_

_PERCY JACKSON_

"They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent."

I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a _pop!_

"I _am _impertinent," I said.

I looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize.

She didn't. She seemed resigned to the fact that I had a major talent for ticking off the gods.

"Come on," she muttered. "We need a new plan."

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**Okay,I'm not sure I like how this went. Well, I'm never sure. I always dislike my writing, it's a me thing. Okay, I'm sorry it's not a mass upload. I'm not in the spirit to write, and I don't have the time and I didn't have the internet to get the chapters so yeah. I'm sorry. Listen, my reasons and update info are on the blog.**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	13. Chapter 12

Hey. I'm back for the second time today. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me forty eight days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to everybody who reads it.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**We Get Advice from a Poodle**

* * *

We were pretty miserable that night.

We camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers.

We'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but we didn't dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. We didn't want to attract anything else.

We decided to sleep in shifts. I volunteered to take first watch.

Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. Mari decided that since we were twins I was her pillow so she rested her head in my lap and fell asleep after maybe thirty seconds. Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky.

"Go ahead and sleep," I told him. "I'll wake you if there's trouble."

He nodded, but still didn't close his eyes. "It makes me sad, Percy."

"What does? The fact that you signed up for this stupid quest?"

"No. _This _makes me sad." He pointed at all the garbage on the ground. "And the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

"Oh, yeah. I guess you'd be an environmentalist."

He glared at me. "Only a human wouldn't be. Your species is clogging up the world so fast ... ah, never mind. It's useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I'll never find Pan."

"Pam? Like the cooking spray?"

"Pan!" he cried indignantly. "P-A-N. The great god Pan! What do you think I want a searcher's license for?"

A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and muck. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rain water, things that might've once been in these woods. Suddenly I was nostalgic for something I'd never known.

"Tell me about the search," I said. Grover looked at me cautiously, as if he were afraid I was just making fun.

"The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he told me. "A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, 'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep."

"And you want to be a searcher."

"It's my life's dream," he said. "My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand ... the statue you saw back there—"

"Oh, right, sorry."

Grover shook his head. "Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first searcher to return alive

"Hang on—_the first?"_

Grover took his reed pipes out of his pocket. "No searcher has ever come back. Once they set out, they disappear. They're never seen alive again."

"Not once in two thousand years?"

"No."

"And your dad? You have no idea what happened to him?"

"None."

"But you still want to go," I said, amazed. "I mean, you really think you'll be the one to find Pan?"

"I have to believe that, Percy. Every searcher does. It's the only thing that keeps us from despair when we look at what humans have done to the world. I have to believe Pan can still be awakened."

I stared at the orange haze of the sky and tried to understand how Grover could pursue a dream that seemed so hopeless. Then again, was I any better?

"How are we going to get into the Underworld?" I asked him. "I mean, what chance do we have against a god?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But back at Medusa's, when you were searching her office? Annabeth was telling me—"

"Oh, I forgot. Annabeth will have a plan all figured out."

"Don't be so hard on her, Percy. She's had a tough life, but she's a good person. After all, she forgave me..." His voice faltered.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Forgave you for what?"

Suddenly, Grover seemed very interested in playing notes on his pipes.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Your first keeper job was five years ago. Annabeth has been at camp five years. She wasn't ... I mean, your first assignment that went wrong—"

"I can't talk about it," Grover said, and his quivering lower lip suggested he'd start crying if I pressed him. "But as I was saying, back at Medusa's, Annabeth and I agreed there's something strange going on with this quest. Something isn't what it seems."

"Well, duh. I'm getting blamed for stealing a thunder bolt that Hades took."

"That's not what I mean," Grover said. "The Fur—The Kindly Ones were sort of holding back. Like Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy ... why did she wait so long to try to kill you? Then on the bus, they just weren't as aggressive as they could've been."

"They seemed plenty aggressive to me."

Grover shook his head. "They were screeching at us: 'Where is it? Where?'"

"Asking about me," I said.

"Maybe ... but Annabeth and I, we both got the feeling they weren't asking about a person. They said 'Where is _it_?' They seemed to be asking about an object."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I know. But if we've misunderstood something about this quest, and we only have nine days to find the master bolt..." He looked at me like he was hoping for answers, but I didn't have any.

I thought about what Medusa had said: I was being used by the gods. What lay ahead of me was worse than petrifaction. "I haven't been straight with you," I told Grover. "I don't care about the master bolt. I agreed to go to the Underworld so I could bring back my mother."

Grover blew a soft note on his pipes. "I know that, Percy. But are you sure that's the only reason?"

"I'm not doing it to help my father. He doesn't care about me. I don't care about him." Marisol began to shiver and I pulled the blanket around her tighter, hoping she'd get warmer. "Correction. He doesn't care about us."

Grover gazed down from his tree branch. "Look, Percy, I'm not as smart as Annabeth. I'm not as tough as Mari. I'm not as brave as you. But I'm pretty good at reading emotions. You're glad your dad is alive. You feel good that he's claimed you, and part of you wants to make him proud. That's why you mailed Medusa's head to Olympus. You wanted him to notice what you'd done."

"Yeah? Well maybe satyr emotions work differently than human emotions. Because you're wrong. I don't care what he thinks."

Grover pulled his feet up onto the branch. "Okay, Percy. Whatever."

"Besides, I haven't done anything worth bragging about. We barely got out of New York and we're stuck here with no money and no way west."

Grover looked at the night sky, like he was thinking about that problem. "How about _I_ take first watch, huh? You get some sleep."

I wanted to protest, but he started to play Mozart, soft and sweet, and I turned away, my eyes stinging. After a few bars of Piano Concerto no. 12, I was asleep.

* * *

As soon as I heard Percy's breathing even out I sat up and crawled toward the tree Grover had perched himself in.

"Hey Mari," he said sadly. I knew what he was thinking. One, about the wild, two about Percy.

"You knew I was awake. I'm not surprised to know how Percy feels. He's always felt like dad hasn't cared. Mom told him about some journey at sea and lost at sea. He used to think his dad didn't care and left anyway, leaving behind mom and all. Now he thinks dad doesn't care if we live, that all he wants is a job done."

"Are you saying that's not how you feel? After all aren't you two linked in this stuff?" Grover asked in the tone of voice that makes you know the only answer to the question is Yes.

"You know I think and felt like that Grover. Aren't you the Satyr here?" I snapped. Grover flinched a bit and I sighed, guilt washing over me. "Sorry. I just . . . ugh this is so confusing. I mean, Annabeth isn't the only one who forgave you. And Percy . . . I don't think he's too happy to know our story."

I hung my head and let my hair hang like curtains around my face. I really didn't want to cry, but it's hard not to when you feel how I do.

"He _is _happy to have you around Mari. If he wasn't would he really worry about you as much as he does? He may not know why he worries, but he _does _worry. The wound in your shoulder? He worried it'd get you killed in the Fury fight. The food thing back at Medusa's? He wanted you not to starve. And just now? He thought you were cold and he tried making you warmer," Grover explained. I glared at the ground and pulled out my dagger. The words that shone on the metal seemed to haunt me now.

"Love Never Dies," I whispered.

"You know, a baby's love is the purest kind there is," Grover said. There was that tone again. yes, Percy and I loved each other as babies. Siblings usually do when they're young.

"Yeah. So? Love doesn't last forever," I muttered. Then I sighed. "Okay, that's a lie. The words are right in front of me, make no comment super goat. I get it, my brother cares. Doesn't mean our parents do."

"Your mom cares. She's been wanting Percy to find you. When we were running from the Minotaur, she was thinking about you. Percy never heard it, but as we drove she was muttering about getting Percy to camp, to his little sister. She cares. And your dad, would he have claimed you if he didn't care?"

"I told you he only needs a―"

"That's not the only reason and you know it."

Silence.

Stupid goat. Does he always have to be right?

"I have to protect him," I whispered. "I have to get the bolt."

"We'll find the bolt. He's not going to die."

"He can't die. Seriously, he has to live twelve extra years. I need to get back the time we lost. I'm not losing anyone else that I care about just because we're _Big Three_," I growled.

"That wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't _your _fault, but a lot of it was mine. She knew what I was. The eyes gave it away. Electric Blue, Zeus. Sea Green, Poseidon. I'm pretty sure Hades would have really dark brown, almost black. It's our giveaway," I said. "If she had left me, I know they would have made it. But no, she let me tag along because we were family, and I was a kid. She knew I wouldn't survive on my own. Then on the hill, she didn't let me fight with her. I could have done something! I know I could have!"

"Yeah, died. You were seven, Mari do you really think she'd let you risk your life like that? Just because you're Big Three?"

"Yes. Okay, it's my fault. Her scent was strong enough and letting me tag along just meant we attracted more monsters. Four demigods. Half Olympians reg, half Big Three. She signed a death wish by letting me tag along! It's all my fault. I should have IM'd you sooner, I should have gotten them to . . . I should have . . . it's my fault."

I began fiddling with the bracelet I'd gotten from Luke. I remember where he got it too. I'd gotten it for him while we were on the run and I'd put the L into the leather band. A present because he'd become like the brother I'd lost. He'd taken care of me. So I gave him a present, telling him it'd keep him safe.

Now I'm on my quest and he gave it back to keep me safe. Yeah, he's definitely a great brother and best friend. So was Luca, Andy, and Percy. Two died, two are left. Funny how that works.

"Mari . . . you shouldn't cry . . . it's not your thing," Grover said hesitantly. I looked up at him and wiped away my tears. He was right, _again_. Crying . . . not my thing.

"Gods I feel like some brat, complaining about my life when everybody here had it just as bad. I really shouldn't be so moody," I said with a laugh. I tend to laugh away the pain when it gets to be too much.

"Nah. You've had it hard. It's okay to get a little moody here and there. A little more so now that you have to fix a family you lost. Go to sleep, I'll wake you up later."

"But―"

"Sleep."

"_Fine_."

Protesting a protester is never a good idea. They out protest you.

I laid my head on my brother's shoulder after crawling back to him and I wrapped the blanket around him. I don't get cold, I don't need a blanket. Simple. Plus it was softer and drier than his shirt so yeah.

After what felt like forever, I fell asleep.

Then the dream began.

* * *

In my dreams, I stood in a dark cavern before a gaping pit.

Gray mist creatures churned all around me, whispering rags of smoke that I somehow knew were the spirits of the dead.

They tugged at my clothes, trying to pull me back, but I felt compelled to walk forward to the very edge of the chasm.

Looking down made me dizzy.

The pit yawned so wide and was so completely black, I knew it must be bottomless. Yet I had a feeling that something was trying to rise from the abyss, something huge and evil.

_The little hero, _an amused voice echoed far down in the darkness. _Too weak, too young, but perhaps you will do._

The voice felt ancient—cold and heavy. It wrapped around me like sheets of lead.

_They have misled you, boy, _it said. _Barter with me. I will give you what you want._

A shimmering image hovered over the void: my mother, frozen at the moment she'd dissolved in a shower of gold. Her face was distorted with pain, as if the Minotaur were still squeezing her neck. Her eyes looked directly at me, pleading: _Go!_

I tried to cry out, but my voice wouldn't work. Cold laughter echoed from the chasm. An invisible force pulled me forward. It would drag me into the pit unless I stood firm.

_Help me rise, boy. _The voice became hungrier. _Bring me the bolt. Strike a blow against the treacherous gods!_

The spirits of the dead whispered around me, _No! Wake!_

The image of my mother began to fade. The thing in the pit tightened its unseen grip around me. I realized it wasn't interested in pulling me in. It was using me to pull itself _out._

_Good, _it murmured. _Good._

_Wake! _the dead whispered. _Wake!_

* * *

I was back at camp, in the Poseidon cabin.

Luke was there, but he was looking through my drawers and under my bed.

"Where is it?" he mumbled as he began prying up the boards under my bed. After finding nothing he stomped out of the cabin and soon he was in the hallway of traps that led to Bunker Eleven. "Guess I just have to wing it."

Then he tried to get past the traps, and he failed once he got to the spikes. He couldn't find the panel in the ceiling.

"I should have looked for it longer. Maybe she hid it in the cabin," he muttered to himself. He left the trap hallway and went back up into the empty Hermes cabin. He began looking everywhere but he didn't find what he was looking for. "This is not good."

Then I snapped into consciousness with a breathy statement. "He wants the map."

"What?" Annabeth asked from a few feet away. I looked around and noticed I was still lying down on the ground with my head on Percy's shoulder. Ugh, he probably shifted sometime in his sleep.

"Nothing," I called as I sat up. Then I began to shiver.

"Whats wrong?" Annabeth asked in alarm as she saw me shivering. She pulled out her dagger and looked around urgently. I snatched up a blanket and wrapped it around myself, but I retained no body heat.

"Why is it so _cold_?" I hissed as I looked around. I felt like I was wrapped in a blanket of icy air.

"What are you talking about? It's like eighty degrees," Grover said. Then I noticed he was holding a pink poodle. Was I still dreaming?

"Am I still dreaming or is that actually a _pink _poodle?" I asked as I stared at the filthy poodle. It had gunk all over it.

"Marisol, meet Gladiola. The poodle is a _he _by the way," Grover announced. "Say hi."

"Hello," I said happily as I tightened my hold on the blanket. When Grover tells you to speak with an animal or be nice or anything like that, it's because it's important. When it comes to animals, listen to the half-goat, got it?

Annabeth filled me in on what was what as she 'made' breakfast, and by the time she was done we noticed Percy was still sleeping.

"I'll wake him," she said. Let's just say that involved many attempts and a swearing blonde each time an attempt failed.

* * *

Someone was shaking me.

My eyes opened, and it was daylight.

"Well," Annabeth said, "the zombie lives."

I was trembling from the dream. I could still feel the grip of the chasm monster around my chest. "How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough for me to cook breakfast." Annabeth tossed me a bag of nacho-flavored corn chips from Aunty Em's snack bar. "And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend."

My eyes had trouble focusing.

Grover was sitting cross-legged on a blanket with something fuzzy in his lap, a dirty, unnaturally pink stuffed animal.

No. It wasn't a stuffed animal. It was a pink poodle.

The poodle yapped at me suspiciously. Grover said, "No, he's not."

I blinked. "Are you ... talking to that thing?"

The poodle growled.

"This _thing_," Grover warned, "is our ticket west. Be nice to him."

"You can talk to animals?"

*He's half goat. Did you think he couldn't?* Mari asked me. I looked over and saw a small smile tugging at her lips. She was trying not to laugh.

Grover ignored the question. "Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy."

I stared at Annabeth, figuring she'd crack up at this practical joke they were playing on me, but she looked deadly serious.

"I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," I said. "Forget it."

"Percy," Annabeth said. "I said hello to the poodle. Your sister, Mari, said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle."

The poodle growled.

I said hello to the poodle.

Mari laughed.

Grover explained that he'd come across Gladiola in the woods and they'd struck up a conversation. The poodle had run away from a rich local family, who'd posted a $200 reward for his return. Gladiola didn't really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover.

"How does Gladiola know about the reward?" I asked.

"He read the signs," Grover said. "Duh."

"Of course," I said. "Silly me."

"So we turn in Gladiola," Annabeth explained in her best strategy voice, "we get money, and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."

I thought about my dream—the whispering voices of the dead, the thing in the chasm, and my mother's face, shimmering as it dissolved into gold. All that might be waiting for me in the West.

"Not another bus," I said warily.

"No," Annabeth agreed.

Mari cleared her throat to get my attention and pointed downhill, toward train tracks I hadn't been able to see last night in the dark. "There's an Amtrak station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the west bound train leaves at noon."

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**Okay,I'm not sure I like how this went. Well, I'm never sure. I always dislike my writing, it's a me thing. Okay, My mom's out of the hospital yay! I START SCHOOL AT THE MARY LOUIS ACADEMY ON MONDAY SEPTEMBER TENTH! I hope I can get this book done by the end of the week. I hope for a lot of things.**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	14. Chapter 13

Hey. I'm back for the second time today. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me forty eight days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to everybody who reads it.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**I Plunge to my Death**

* * *

We spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain.

We weren't attacked once, but I didn't relax.

I felt that we were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity.

I tried to keep a low profile because my name and picture were splattered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers. The _Trenton Register-News _showed a photo taken by a tourist as I got off the Greyhound bus. I had a wild look in my eyes.

My sword was a metallic blur in my hands. It might've been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick.

The picture's caption read:

_Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers._

_The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with three teenage accomplices. His stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture._

"Don't worry," Annabeth told me. "Mortal police could never find us." But she didn't sound so sure.

The rest of the day I spent alternately pacing the length of the train (because I had a really hard time sitting still) or looking out the windows.

Once, I spotted a family of centaurs galloping across a wheat field, bows at the ready, as they hunted lunch.

The little boy centaur, who was the size of a second-grader on a pony, caught my eye and waved. I looked around the passenger car, but nobody else had noticed. The adult riders all had their faces buried in laptop computers or magazines.

Another time, toward evening, I saw something huge moving through the woods. I could've sworn it was a lion, except that lions don't live wild in America, and this thing was the size of a Hummer. Its fur glinted gold in the evening light. Then it leaped through the trees and was gone.

Our reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver. We couldn't get berths in the sleeper car, so we dozed in our seats. My neck got stiff. I tried not to drool in my sleep, since Annabeth was sitting right next to me.

Grover kept snoring and bleating and waking me up. Once, he shuffled around and his fake foot fell off. Annabeth and I had to stick it back on before any of the other passengers noticed. Mari just mumbled about maps in her sleep as we struggled. She had such good timing with sleep.

"So," Annabeth asked me, once _we'd _gotten Grover's sneaker readjusted. "Who wants your help?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?"

I was reluctant to say anything. It was the second time I'd dreamed about the evil voice from the pit.

But it bothered me so much I finally told her.

* * *

The Amtrak Train thing. I hate it. I'd like to blow it up, but I figure the bus was enough. While Percy annoyingly paced the train and stared out the window I wrote in my journal. Wanna know what I wrote?

_Mari's Log_

_It's mid-June, I am twelve. I have a twin brother I haven't seen in twelve years. I am a demigod. I am on a quest to retrieve Zeus' stolen lightning bolt with my big brother/twin Perseus (He hates being called that. He goes by Percy) Jackson, one of my best friends Annabeth Chase, and my best Satyr friend Grover Underwood._

_My brother is the only real family I have besides my cousins and friends._

_He almost got us killed how many times? Let me count . . . the furies . . . medusa . . . the exploding bus . . . I'd say three times? _

_He wasn't too keen on me coming on this quest. _

_He almost didn't let me go._

_He and Annabeth constantly argue and I don't pick sides._

_I am to blame for the death of my cousin, but he doesn't know that._

_Percy is trying to go to Hades to save our mother. The mother who abandoned me._

_Percy is an idiot._

_I love him anyway._

_So after all of the things we've faced less than halfway through this suicide-mission/quest, we are still going._

_I know my brother won't let me, or anyone else, down. He is too strong for that._

_Even if he doesn't know it._

_He is kind, and loyal._

_That is why I will stick with him, the way he has stuck with me._

_Once again, he is an idiot._

_And I still love him._

_He is my big brother, my twin, and I'm not losing him because of the gods or any enemy that stands as a threat. I'd die before I let that happen._

I also wrote _all_ about Medusa and the Furies but this is the important stuff, the stuff about Percy. I know we aren't as close as we can be yet, but he's still the most important person in my life right now.

So . . . back to the present.

* * *

Annabeth was quiet for a long time. "That doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs."

"He offered my mother in trade. Who else could do that?"

"I guess ... if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?"

I shook my head, wishing I knew the answer. I thought about what Grover had told me, that the Furies on the bus seemed to have been looking for something.

_Where is it? Where?_

Maybe Grover sensed my emotions. He snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head.

Annabeth readjusted his cap so it covered his horns. "Percy, you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right? He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time—"

"This time?" I asked. "You mean you've run into them before?"

Her hand crept up to her necklace. She fingered a glazed white bead painted with the image of a pine tree, one of her clay end-of-summer tokens. "Let's just say I've got no love for the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom."

"What would you do if it was your dad?"

"That's easy," she said. "I'd leave him to rot."

"You're not serious?"

Annabeth's gray eyes fixed on me. She wore the same expression she'd worn in the woods at camp, the moment she drew her sword against the hellhound. "My dad's resented me since the day I was born, Percy," she said. "He never wanted a baby. When he got me, he asked Athena to take me back and raise me on Olympus because he was too busy with his work. She wasn't happy about that. She told him heroes had to be raised by their mortal parent."

"But how ... I mean, I guess you weren't born in a hospital..."

"I appeared on my father's doorstep, in a golden cradle, carried down from Olympus by Zephyr the West Wind. You'd think my dad would remember that as a miracle, right? Like, maybe he'd take some digital photos or something. But he always talked about my arrival as if it were the most inconvenient thing that had ever happened to him. When I was five he got married and totally forgot about Athena. He got a 'regular' mortal wife, and had two 'regular' mortal kids, and tried to pretend I didn't exist."

I stared out the train window. The lights of a sleeping town were drifting by. I wanted to make Annabeth feel better, but I didn't know how.

"My mom married a really awful guy," I told her. "Grover said she did it to protect me, to hide me in the scent of a human family. Maybe that's what your dad was thinking."

Annabeth kept worrying at her necklace. She was pinching the gold college ring that hung with the beads. It occurred to me that the ring must be her father's. I wondered why she wore it if she hated him so much.

"He doesn't care about me," she said. "His wife—my stepmom—treated me like a freak. She wouldn't let me play with her children. My dad went along with her. Whenever something dangerous happened—you know, something with monsters—they would both look at me resentfully, like, 'How dare you put our family at risk.' Finally, I took the hint. I wasn't wanted. I ran away."

"How old were you?"

"Same age as when I started camp. Seven."

"But ... you couldn't have gotten all the way to Half-Blood Hill by yourself."

"Not alone, no. Athena watched over me, guided me toward help. I made a couple of unexpected friends who took care of me. We met another demigod too and we were a family, for a short time, anyway."

I wanted to ask what happened, but Annabeth seemed lost in sad memories. So I listened to the sound of Grover snoring, played with my sister's hair, and gazed out the train windows as the dark fields of Ohio raced by.

Toward the end of our second day on the train, June 13, eight days before the summer solstice, we passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St. Louis. Annabeth craned her neck to see the Gateway Arch, which looked to me like a huge shopping bag handle stuck on the city.

"I want to do that," she sighed.

"What?" I asked.

"Build something like that. You ever see the Parthenon, Percy?"

"Only in pictures."

"Someday, I'm going to see it in person. I'm going to build the greatest monument to the gods, ever. Something that'll last a thousand years."

I laughed. "You? An architect?"

I don't know why, but I found it funny. Just the idea of Annabeth trying to sit quietly and draw all day.

Her cheeks flushed. "Yes, an architect. Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them down, like a certain god of earthquakes I could mention."

I watched the churning brown water of the Mississippi below.

"Sorry," Annabeth said. "That was mean."

"Can't we work together a little?" I pleaded. "I mean, didn't Athena and Poseidon ever cooperate?"

Annabeth had to think about it. "I guess ... the chariot," she said tentatively. "My mom invented it, but Poseidon created horses out of the crests of waves. So they had to work together to make it complete."

"Then we can cooperate, too. Right?"

We rode into the city, Annabeth watching as the Arch disappeared behind a hotel.

"I suppose," she said at last.

We pulled into the Amtrak station downtown. The intercom told us we'd have a three-hour layover before departing for Denver.

Grover stretched. Before he was even fully awake, he said, "Food."

"Come on, goat boy," Annabeth said. "Sightseeing."

"Sightseeing?"

"The Gateway Arch," she said. "This may be my only chance to ride to the top. Are you coming or not?"

Grover and I exchanged looks. Marisol just began laughing.

I wanted to say no, but I figured that if Annabeth was going, we couldn't very well let her go alone.

*And she and I are going with or without you. She doesn't get to see amazing things every day. Its all just camp and Olympus for us.*

*Really? That's sad.*

*You get used to it. Year rounders like us have no home except camp. So yeah, Arch time.*

*Fine,* I sighed as I gave in. what's up with this whole giving into my sister's requests thing?

Grover shrugged. "As long as there's a snack bar without monsters."

The Arch was about a mile from the train station. Late in the day the lines to get in weren't that long. We threaded our way through the underground museum, looking at covered wagons and other junk from the 1800s. It wasn't all that thrilling, but Annabeth kept telling us interesting facts about how the Arch was built, and Grover kept passing me jelly beans, so I was okay.

* * *

As Annie spewed facts and Percy munched on jellybeans, I just fiddled with my locket from Elizabeth and kept a hand on my dagger. Something was bothering me. Something was going to happen. But I didn't get the shivers that screamed _monsters_ so something monsterless was going to happen.

I wanted Annie to be happy and see the sights, but something felt _wrong._ Like, _we shouldn't be here_ wrong.

* * *

I kept looking around, though, at the other people in line. "You smell anything?" I murmured to Grover.

He took his nose out of the jelly-bean bag long enough to sniff. "Underground," he said distastefully. "Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn't mean anything."

But something felt wrong to me. I had a feeling we shouldn't be here.

"Guys," I said. "You know the gods' symbols of power?"

Annabeth had been in the middle of reading about the construction equipment used to build the Arch, but she looked over. "Yeah?"

"Well, Hade—"

Grover cleared his throat. "We're in a public place... You mean, our friend downstairs?"

"Um, right," I said. "Our friend _way _downstairs. Doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?"

"You mean the Helm of Darkness," Annabeth said. "Yeah, that's his symbol of power. I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting."

"He was there?" I asked.

Mari nodded. "It's the only time he's allowed to visit Olympus—the darkest day of the year. But his helm is a lot more powerful than A's invisibility hat, and there is word that ..."

"It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, or seen, or heard. And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?"

"But then ... how do we know he's not here right now, watching us?" I asked.

Annabeth and Grover exchanged looks. Mari clutched her dagger.

"We don't," Grover said.

"Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," I said. "Got any blue jelly beans left?"

I'd almost mastered my jumpy nerves when I saw the tiny little elevator car we were going to ride to the top of the Arch, and I knew I was in trouble. I hate confined places. They make me nuts.

We got shoehorned into the car with this big fat lady and her dog, a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar. I figured maybe the dog was a seeing-eye Chihuahua, because none of the guards said a word about it.

We started going up, inside the Arch. I'd never been in an elevator that went in a curve, and my stomach wasn't too happy about it.

"No parents?" the fat lady asked us.

She had beady eyes; pointy, coffee-stained teeth; a floppy denim hat, and a denim dress that bulged so much, she looked like a blue-jean blimp.

"They're below," Annabeth told her. "Scared of heights."

"Oh, the poor darlings."

The Chihuahua growled. The woman said, "Now, now, sonny. Behave." The dog had beady eyes like its owner, intelligent and vicious.

I said, "Sonny. Is that his name?"

"No," the lady told me.

She smiled, as if that cleared everything up.

At the top of the Arch, the observation deck reminded me of a tin can with carpeting. Rows of tiny windows looked out over the city on one side and the river on the other. The view was okay, but if there's anything I like less than a confined space, it's a confined space six hundred feet in the air. I was ready to go pretty quick.

Annabeth kept talking about structural supports, and how she would've made the windows bigger, and designed a see-through floor.

"Annie, a see through floor isn't exactly good for reassurance that you won't fall hundreds of feet and die," Mari laughed nervously.

"Oh right. Okay, no see through floors," Annabeth said sheepishly before going on with her rant about stuff.

She probably could've stayed up there for hours, but luckily for me the park ranger announced that the observation deck would be closing in a few minutes.

I steered Grover and Annabeth toward the exit with Mari trailing behind, loaded them into the elevator, and she and I were about to get in too when I realized there were already two other tourists inside. No room for me or my sister.

The park ranger said, "Next car, kids."

"We'll get out," Annabeth said. "We'll wait with you."

But that was going to mess everybody up and take even more time, so I said, "Naw, it's okay. we'll see you guys at the bottom."

Grover and Annabeth both looked nervous, but they let the elevator door slide shut. Their car disappeared down the ramp.

"Gee smooth move. Now we're stuck here. Up, off solid ground. Thanks," Mari grumbled as she clutched my hands.

*Fear of heights?*

*Fear of getting blown to bits while off solid ground is more like it.*

*Okay?*

*Goof.*

*Love you too.*

*Not like I don't love you Perce.*

*Uh huh, sure.*

*I should be worried that _you _don't love _me_! After all you're life was normal-ish before any of this. I know you don't want any of this, you'd rather be at home with your prescious mom.*

*Can we argue later?*

*Whatever.*

Silence in the link.

* * *

So sometimes I can say something stupid or mean about Percy? Maybe. But I'm human, and I'm hasty and impulsive and me! Can you expect me to keep my mouth _shut_? If you expect that then don't even bother going to the doctor for your stupidity. It's incurable.

I felt myself shudder and I looked around just in time to see the Chihuahua jump out of fat lady's arms and yap at me and Percy.

What's with this demon Chihauhau?

* * *

Now the only people left on the observation deck were me, my sister, a little boy with his parents, the park ranger, and the fat lady with her Chihuahua.

I smiled uneasily at the fat lady. She smiled back, her forked tongue flickering between her teeth.

Wait a minute.

Forked tongue?

Before I could decide if I'd really seen that, her Chihuahua jumped down and started yapping at me.

"Now, now, sonny," the lady said. "Does this look like a good time? We have all these nice people here."

"Doggie!" said the little boy. "Look, a doggie!"

His parents pulled him back.

The Chihuahua bared his teeth at me, foam dripping from his black lips.

"Well, son," the fat lady sighed. "If you insist."

Ice started forming in my stomach. "Urn, did you just call that Chihuahua your son?"

_"Chimera, _dear," the fat lady corrected. "Not a Chihuahua. It's an easy mistake to make."

"Percy . . . get ready to run," Mari whispered as she clutched my hand tighter. The lady glared at us.

She rolled up her denim sleeves, revealing that the skin of her arms was scaly and green. When she smiled, I saw that her teeth were fangs. The pupils of her eyes were sideways slits, like a reptile's.

The Chihuahua barked louder, and with each bark, it grew. First to the size of a Doberman, then to a lion. The bark became a roar.

The little boy screamed. His parents pulled him back toward the exit, straight into the park ranger, who stood, paralyzed, gaping at the monster.

The Chimera was now so tall its back rubbed against the roof. It had the head of a lion with a blood-caked mane, the body and hooves of a giant goat, and a serpent for a tail, a ten-foot-long diamondback growing right out of its shaggy behind. The rhinestone dog collar still hung around its neck, and the plate-sized dog tag was now easy to read: CHIMERA—RABID, FIRE-BREATHING, POISONOUS—IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL TARTARUS—EXT. 954.

I realized I hadn't even uncapped my sword. My hands were numb. I was ten feet away from the Chimera's bloody maw, and I knew that as soon as I moved, the creature would lunge. Mari seemed to lose control of her brain because suddenly I could hear _everything _she was thinking. It made me dizzy and nervous.

* * *

So maybe seeing Echidna was the most terrifying thing I've ever seen. The mother of monsters is the worst mom around. You could only ever defeat her when her guard was down and she doesn't let her guard down until she knows she's taken down her enemy. So really once you're dead you can kill her. So really Percy and I are going to die.

Just great.

Percy! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

*SORRY! But you did it!*

* * *

The snake lady made a hissing noise that might've been laughter. "Be honored, Percy and Marisol Jackson. Lord Zeus rarely allows me to test a hero or two with one of my brood. For I am the Mother of Monsters, the terrible Echidna!"

I stared at her. All I could think to say was: "Isn't that a kind of anteater?"

Then Mari began to laugh, and I couldn't hear her thoughts anymore. She was back to normal.

* * *

The funny idiot? Yeah, that's my brother. Be jealous.

* * *

She howled, her reptilian face turning brown and green with rage. "I hate it when people say that! I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me. For that, Percy Jackson, my son shall destroy you!"

The Chimera charged, its lion teeth gnashing. I managed to leap aside and dodge the bite. I don't know what happened to Mari, I just know she didn't get hurt.

I ended up next to the family and the park ranger, who were all screaming now, trying to pry open the emergency exit doors.

I couldn't let them get hurt. I uncapped my sword, ran to the other side of the deck, and yelled, "Hey, Chihuahua!" The Chimera turned faster than I would've thought possible.

Before I could swing my sword, it opened its mouth, emitting a stench like the world's largest barbecue pit, and shot a column of flame straight at me.

I dove through the explosion. The carpet burst into flames; the heat was so intense, it nearly seared off my eye brows.

Where I had been standing a moment before was a ragged hole in the side of the Arch, with melted metal steaming around the edges.

Great, I thought. We just blowtorched a national monument.

Riptide was now a shining bronze blade in my hands, and as the Chimera turned, I slashed at its neck.

* * *

So, as the Chimera lunged, Percy dive away to the side. Me? I just tuck and rolled like I was taught at camp. I pulled out Seaside and was going to go for the snake head when Percy ran around and I was swatted to the side by the snake head tail thing.

I hit the wall and grit my teeth together as I stopped a shriek of pain. I'm pretty sure I shattered my elbow or something when my arm hit the wall.

Then there was my trying to get back up, Percy making a mistake, and my hand and sword getting caught in flame.

Somehow my hand barely hurt, but my sword was so hot I shrieked and dropped it. I stared at my blade to see it that bright burning red. I wouldn't be able to pick it up til it was cooled down. It'd cool down in maybe an hour?

I'd be dead by then.

So I pulled out my dagger.

You never know, it might come in handy.

* * *

That was my fatal mistake. The blade sparked harmlessly off the dog collar. I tried to regain my balance, but I was so worried about defending myself against the fiery lion's mouth, I completely forgot about the serpent tail until it whipped around and sank its fangs into my calf.

My whole leg was on fire. I tried to jab Riptide into the Chimera's mouth, but the serpent tail wrapped around my ankles and pulled me off balance, and my blade flew out of my hand, spinning out of the hole in the Arch and down toward the Mississippi River.

I managed to get to my feet, but I knew I had lost. I was weaponless. I could feel deadly poison racing up to my chest. I remembered Chiron saying that Anaklusmos would always return to me, but there was no pen in my pocket. Maybe it had fallen too far away. Maybe it only returned when it was in pen form. I didn't know, and I wasn't going to live long enough to figure it out.

I backed into the hole in the wall. The Chimera advanced, growling, smoke curling from its lips. The snake lady, Echidna, cackled. "They don't make heroes like they used to, eh, son?"

The monster growled. It seemed in no hurry to finish me off now that I was beaten. I saw my sister on the other side of the hole, her dagger in her hand. Seaside's blade was bright orange and I knew it was too hot to touch. She had her dagger, but that wouldn't kill the Chimera.

I glanced at the park ranger and the family. The little boy was hiding behind his father's legs. I had to protect these people. I had to protect my sister. We couldn't just ... die.

I tried to think, but my whole body was on fire. My head felt dizzy. I had no sword. I was facing a massive, fire-breathing monster and its mother. And I was scared.

There was no place else to go, so I stepped to the edge of the hole. Far, far below, the river glittered.

If I died, would the monsters go away? Would they leave the humans alone? What about my sister? Could I leave her alone when I just found her? Was she affected by the poison?

"If you are the son of Poseidon," Echidna hissed, "you would not fear water. Jump, Percy Jackson. Show me that water will not harm you. Jump and retrieve your sword. Prove your bloodline."

Yeah, right, I thought. I'd read somewhere that jumping into water from a couple of stories up was like jumping onto solid asphalt. From here, I'd splatter on impact.

The Chimera's mouth glowed red, heating up for another blast.

"You have no faith," Echidna told me. "You do not trust the gods. I cannot blame you, little coward. Better you die now. The gods are faithless. The poison is in your heart."

She was right: I was dying. I could feel my breath slowing down. Nobody could save me, not even the gods.

* * *

I watched in horror as my brother's face went an ashy pale color. He knew there was no way out. But the water. But . . . it was so far away. Echidna's words stung more than the poison that somehow got to my heart. Damn, I felt dizzier than ever. Even when Travis started spinning me with Hermes kid speed I didn't get _this _dizzy.

Well, I've never been poisoned so I guess . . . well yeah. The one thing I want to scream dramatically though . . . I'M TO YOUNG TO DIEEEEE!

* * *

I backed up and looked down at the water. I remembered the warm glow of my father's smile when I was a baby. He must have seen me. He must have visited me when I was in my cradle.

I remembered the swirling green trident that had appeared above my head the night of capture the flag, when Poseidon had claimed me as his son.

But this wasn't the sea. This was the Mississippi, dead center of the USA. There was no Sea God here.

"Die, faithless one," Echidna rasped, and the Chimera sent a column of flame toward my face.

"Father, help me," I prayed.

I turned and jumped. My clothes on fire, poison coursing through my veins, I plummeted toward the river.

* * *

My brother just jumped off a national monument. I was terrified. I was angry. I was dizzy.

"Please don't let this kill me," I muttered as I stared down at the river. I wasn't a fan of heights and _boy _was this a height.

I am many things. Some say brave, smart, or trustworthy. There's more.

I am also very stupid.

Why?

Because I prayed Echidna that had her guard down, then I threw my dagger at her.

I saw it nail her right between the eyes and she shrieked. I didn't stay to see what happened as the snake head made a snatch at me. I let myself fall to my doom, following my brother. I plummeted toward the river.

* * *

**So what did you think? Leave me a review?**

**Okay,I'm not sure I like how this went. Well, I'm never sure. I always dislike my writing, it's a me thing. I START SCHOOL AT THE MARY LOUIS ACADEMY ON MONDAY SEPTEMBER TENTH! I hope I can get this book done by the end of the week. I hope for a lot of things.**

**PERCY KILLED MEDUSA. DOESNT MARI DESERVE A BIG KILL, ECHIDNA PEOPLE! PLUS SHE LOST HER MOST PRIZED POSSESSION SO I THINK ITS FAIR!**

**Til next time**

**~Xoxo ElAmorNuncaMuere-LoveNeverDies**


	15. Chapter 14

Hey. I'm back for a bit. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me HOW MANY days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to everybody who reads it.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**I Become a Know Fugitive**

* * *

I'd love to tell you I had some deep revelation on my way down, that I came to terms with my own mortality, laughed in the face of death, etcetera.

The truth? My only thought was: Aaaaggghhhhh!

The river raced toward me at the speed of a truck. Wind ripped the breath from my lungs. Steeples and skyscrapers and bridges tumbled in and out of my vision.

And then: _Flaaa-boooom!_

* * *

_Falling. Falling. Screaming. Falling._

My one thought?

_My dagger . . . Luca's dagger . . . gone._

Really that dagger was more important to me than Seaside, or any of my weapons, and its now on the arch, probably in a pile of monster mom dust. I'm never getting it back . . . I didn't even notice the impact of the water, I finally came to when I landed on a catfish. All I could see was a bajillion white bubbles.

* * *

A whiteout of bubbles. I sank through the murk, sure that I was about to end up embedded in a hundred feet of mud and lost forever.

But my impact with the water hadn't hurt.

I was falling slowly now, bubbles trickling up through my fingers. I settled on the river bottom soundlessly. A catfish the size of my stepfather lurched away into the gloom. My sister sat in the grim a few feet away. I waddled over and stood her up.

Clouds of silt and disgusting garbage—beer bottles, old shoes, plastic bags—swirled up all around us.

At that point, I realized a few things: first, I had not been flattened into a pancake. I had not been barbecued. I couldn't even feel the Chimera poison boiling in my veins anymore. I was alive, which was good.

Second realization: I wasn't wet. I mean, I could feel the coolness of the water. I could see where the fire on my clothes had been quenched. But when I touched my own shirt, it felt perfectly dry.

I looked at the garbage floating by and snatched an old cigarette lighter.

No way, I thought.

I flicked the lighter. It sparked. A tiny flame appeared, right there at the bottom of the Mississippi.

I grabbed a soggy hamburger wrapper out of the current and immediately the paper turned dry.

I lit it with no problem. As soon as I let it go, the flames sputtered out. The wrapper turned back into a slimy rag. Weird.

But the strangest thought occurred to me only last: I was breathing. I was underwater, and I was breathing normally.

* * *

I felt like giving up. Over a dagger. Stupid and unreasonable? Maybe. But that dagger was my last piece of the guy who raised me. The guy who had protected me no matter what. It was just gone. I was at the bottom of a disgusting river. I was pulled to my feet by Percy and I resisted the urge to scream, or break down in sobs.

Then I heard a voice in my head. Or Percy's. or both of our heads. Oh does it really even matter at this point?

_Kids, what do you say?_

Dad's servant maybe. Is she for real?

* * *

I stood with my sister, thigh-deep in mud. My legs felt shaky. My hands trembled. I should've been dead. The fact that I wasn't seemed like ... well, a miracle. I imagined a woman's voice, a voice that sounded a bit like my mother: _Kids, what do you say?_

"Um ... thanks." Underwater, I sounded like I did on recordings, like a much older kid. "Thank you ... Father."

"Yeah, thanks," Mari muttered.

No response. Just the dark drift of garbage downriver, the enormous catfish gliding by, the flash of sunset on the water's surface far above, turning everything the color of butterscotch.

Why had Poseidon saved me? The more I thought about it, the more ashamed I felt. So I'd gotten lucky a few times before. Against a thing like the Chimera, I had never stood a chance.

*Well duh. But the guy still needs us. Once his job is done he'll probably let us die.*

*That makes me feel so much better.*

*Your welcome.*

*I was being sarcastic.*

*Your welcome*

Really did she _have _to be so ugh?

Those poor people in the Arch were probably toast. I couldn't protect them. I was no hero. Maybe I should just stay down here with the catfish, join the bottom feeders.

_Fump-fump-fump._ A riverboat's paddlewheel churned above me, swirling the silt around.

There, not five feet in front of me, was my sword, its gleaming bronze hilt sticking up in the mud.

I heard that woman's voice again: _Percy, take the sword. Your father believes in you. Both of you._

This time, I knew the voice wasn't in my head. I wasn't imagining it. Her words seemed to come from everywhere, rippling through the water like dolphin sonar.

"Where are you?" I called aloud.

Then, through the gloom, I saw her—a woman the color of the water, a ghost in the current, floating just above the sword. She had long billowing hair, and her eyes, barely visible, were green like mine.

A lump formed in my throat. I said, "Mom?"

_No, child, only a messenger, though your mother's fate is not as hope less as you believe. Go to the beach in Santa Monica._

"What?"

_It is your father's will. Before you descend into the Underworld, you must go to Santa Monica. Please, Percy, I cannot stay long. The river here is too foul for my presence._

"But ..." I was sure this woman was my mother, or a vision of her, anyway. "Who—how did you—"

There was so much I wanted to ask, the words jammed up in my throat.

_I cannot stay, brave one, _the woman said. She reached out, and I felt the current brush my face like a caress. _You must go to Santa Monica! And, Percy, do not trust the gifts..._

Her voice faded.

"Gifts?" I asked. "What gifts? Wait!"

She made one more attempt to speak, but the sound was gone. Her image melted away. If it was my mother, I had lost her again.

I felt like drowning myself. The only problem: I was immune to drowning.

_Your father believes in you, _she had said.

She'd also called me brave ... unless she was talking to the catfish. Or Mari.

"Oh no, she's talkin' to you. Now, about that sword . . ." she reached into her own pocket and pulled out a pen. "Oh good, it's not hot. Go get Riptide."

I waded toward Riptide and grabbed it by the hilt. The Chimera might still be up there with its snaky, fat mother, waiting to finish me and my sister off. At the very least, the mortal police would be arriving, trying to figure out who had blown a hole in the Arch. If they found me, they'd have some questions.

I capped my sword, stuck the ballpoint pen in my pocket. "Thank you, Father," I said again to the dark water.

Then I kicked up through the muck and swam for the surface with Mari.

We came ashore next to a floating McDonald's.

* * *

Well, isn't that nice. They've put junk _food _in the river now? Stupid mortals. They're worse than the monsters. The sirens hurt my ears, my eyes had trouble adjusting to the sudden burst of sunshine. My head hurt. But even worse, my heart hurt.

So many goodbyes I'd never gotten to say, only a few scraps of memories, and now my dagger was gone. Lucas would be so disappointed in me. I was a complete failure. I'm the idiot. I'm the one who decided to slay Echidna when I could have just left her. Why? Because my brother had taken down Medusa? The furies? What they hades was I trying to prove here? Was it really worth losing one of my few most prized possessions?

No.

So, I am an idiotic failure.

Great.

* * *

A block away, every emergency vehicle in St. Louis was surrounding the Arch. Police helicopters circled overhead. The crowd of onlookers reminded me of Times Square on New Year's Eve.

A little girl said, "Mama! Those two walked out of the river."

"That's nice, dear," her mother said, craning her neck to watch the ambulances.

"But they're dry!"

"That's nice, dear."

A news lady was talking for the camera: "Probably not a terrorist attack, we're told, but it's still very early in the investigation. The damage, as you can see, is very serious. We're trying to get to some of the survivors, to question them about eyewitness reports of a pair of children falling from the Arch."

_Survivors._ I felt a surge of relief. Maybe the park ranger and that family made it out safely. I hoped Annabeth and Grover were okay.

I tried to push through the crowd with my sister to see what was going on inside the police line.

"... an adolescent boy, and a girl, possibly a sibling," another reporter was saying. "Channel Five has learned that surveillance cameras show an adolescent boy going wild on the observation deck, somehow setting off this freak explosion. Hard to believe, John, but that's what we're hearing. Again, no confirmed fatalities …"

I backed away, trying to keep my head down. I had to go a long way around the police perimeter. Uniformed officers and news reporters were everywhere. You can probably guess I was dragging Mari behind me.

I'd almost lost hope of ever finding Annabeth and Grover when a familiar voice bleated, "Perrr-cy!"

I turned and got tackled by Grover's bear hug—or goat hug. He said, "We thought you'd gone to Hades the hard way!"

"Well, wouldn't dying be the easy way?" Mari laughed as Grover tackled her next.

Annabeth stood behind him, trying to look angry, but even she seemed relieved to see me.

"We can't leave you alone for five minutes! What happened?"

"I . . . we . . . well . . . we sort of fell."

"Percy! Six hundred and thirty feet?"

Behind us, a cop shouted, "Gangway!" The crowd parted, and a couple of paramedics hustled out, rolling a woman on a stretcher. I recognized her immediately as the mother of the little boy who'd been on the observation deck. She was saying, "And then this huge dog, this huge fire-breathing Chihuahua—"

"Okay, ma'am," the paramedic said. "Just calm down. Your family is fine. The medication is starting to kick in."

"I'm not crazy! This boy and the girl jumped out of the hole and the monster disappeared." Then she saw me and Mari. "There they are! That's them!"

Mari and I turned quickly and pulled Annabeth and Grover after us. We disappeared into the crowd.

"What's going on?" Annabeth demanded. "Was she talking about the Chihuahua on the elevator?"

I told them the whole story of the Chimera, Echidna, my high-dive act, and the underwater lady's message. Mari even mentioned that she slayed Echidna. She didn't seem proud, more depressed because she lost her dagger. Well . . . at least she slayed Echidna. Maybe she's why those people survived.

*No. that was you. I just did the Seaweed Brain thing and lost my most prized possession.*

*Why are you so sad?*

*Prized possession. Gone.*

*Maybe you'll get it back some day.*

*Doubt it.*

That conversation ended.

"Whoa," said Grover. "We've got to get you to Santa Monica! You can't ignore a summons from your dad."

Before Annabeth could respond, we passed another reporter doing a news break, and I almost froze in my tracks when he said, "Percy Jackson. That's right, Dan. Channel Twelve has learned that the boy who may have caused this explosion fits the description of a young man wanted by authorities for a serious New Jersey bus accident three days ago. _And _the boy is believed to be traveling west. For our viewers at home, here is a photo of Percy Jackson."

We ducked around the news van and slipped into an alley.

"First things first," I told Grover. "We've got to get out of town!"

Somehow, we made it back to the Amtrak station without getting spotted. We got on board the train just before it pulled out for Denver. The train trundled west as darkness fell, police lights still pulsing against the St. Louis skyline behind us.

* * *

**I'm back again to upload some more. Sorry if it sucks and my uploads are even fewer and far in between because I'm freshmen my new highschool and it's fun because I'm woth friends but my schedule for FF and anything fun is like, burned to ashes. I'll update again after this 'mass' upload in maybe two weeks? Sooner? I just hope you all stick with me til then.**

**xoxo**

**~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis**

**oh and**

_**IT'S NIALL JAMES HORAN'S BIRTHDAY! WISH HIM A HAPPY BIRTHDAY ON TWITTER OR WHEREVER. LOVE YOU NIALL!**_


	16. Chapter 15

Hey. I'm back for a bit. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me HOW MANY days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to everybody who reads it.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**A God Buys us Cheeseburgers**

* * *

The next afternoon, June 14, seven days before the solstice, our train rolled into Denver. We hadn't eaten since the night before in the dining car, somewhere in Kansas. We hadn't taken a shower since Half-Blood Hill, and I was sure that was obvious.

"Let's try to contact Chiron," Annabeth said. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit."

"We can't use phones, right?"

"I'm not talking about phones."

We wandered through downtown for about half an hour, though I wasn't sure what Annabeth was looking for. The air was dry and hot, which felt weird after the humidity of St. Louis. Everywhere we turned, the Rocky Mountains seemed to be staring at me, like a tidal wave about to crash into the city.

Finally we found an empty do-it-yourself car wash. We veered toward the stall farthest from the street, keeping our eyes open for patrol cars. We were four adolescents hanging out at a car wash without a car; any cop worth his doughnuts would figure we were up to no good.

* * *

I was hungry. I didn't eat on the train, I didn't eat at Medusa's, I haven't eaten since I left Camp Half-Blood. I _don't _eat unhealthy foods. I refuse. I'd rather starve than eat junk. I'm not going to break my eating habits when I've grown up on them. All I've had was water because, thanks to my heritage, it sustains me. So now we were out looking for a place to make an IM and it wasn't easy. Percy didn't even know what we were up to.

* * *

"What exactly are we doing?" I asked, as Grover took out the spray gun.

"It's seventy-five cents," he grumbled. "I've only got two quarters left. Annabeth?"

"Don't look at me," she said. "The dining car wiped me out."

I fished out my last bit of change and passed Grover a quarter, which left me two nickels and one drachma from Medusa's place.

"Excellent," Grover said. "We could do it with a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping."

"What are you talking about?"

He fed in the quarters and set the knob to FINE MIST. "I-M'ing."

"Instant messaging?"

"_Iris_-messaging," Annabeth corrected. "The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods. If you know how to ask, and she's not too busy, she'll do the same for half-bloods."

"You summon the goddess with a spray gun?"

Grover pointed the nozzle in the air and water hissed out in a thick white mist. "Unless you know an easier way to make a rainbow."

Sure enough, late afternoon light filtered through the vapor and broke into colors.

Annabeth held her palm out to me. "Drachma, please."

I handed it over.

She raised the coin over her head. "O goddess, accept our offering."

"Um, I'll be back . . . I have to do something," Mari mumbled before she headed off into another stall.

Annabeth shrugged then she threw the drachma into the rainbow. It disappeared in a golden shimmer.

"Half-Blood Hill," Annabeth requested.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then I was looking through the mist at strawberry fields, and the Long Island Sound in the distance. We seemed to be on the porch of the Big House. Standing with his back to us at the railing was a sandy-haired guy in shorts and an orange tank top. He was holding a bronze sword and seemed to be staring intently at something down in the meadow.

"Luke!" I called.

He turned, eyes wide. I could swear he was standing three feet in front of me through a screen of mist, except I could only see the part of him that appeared in the rainbow.

* * *

I figured if we were sending messages I'd better do what I have to do.

I put in seventy five cents before staring up the little hose thing and making a rainbow. I fished out one of my few remaining drachmas from my baggy and said the words required.

"O goddess, except my offering," I called. I tossed the coin into the rainbow and it disappeared. "Travis Stoll, Camp Half-Blood."

The mist shimmered before I saw the archery range and the Hermes cabin. Luke wasn't there. Good. I spotted Travis and Connor a few people down the line of archers and sighed.

"Hey Stolls, get over here," I called. Everybody froze before turning to see me.

"Mari! You're alive!" the Stolls cheered, dragging out _alive_, before walking over to my message.

"Yeah, I'm alive. We need to talk," I said before looking at the others. "_Alone._"

They quickly fled and I lowered my voice to a whisper.

"I need a favor."

Travis' eyebrows shot up and Connor stared at me. Its unnerving when two almost identical siblings stare at you like that.

"What kind of favor?" Connor asked.

"I need you to get the map to bunker eleven," I whispered.

"Why?" Travis asked as they walked back toward the cabin.

"I need you to destroy it."

"_What_?" Connor shrieked.

"Cool it Banshee Boy. I need it destroyed. Luke can_not _get his hands on it," I hissed.

"What? Why?" Travis asked.

"He's been poking around the Poseidon cabin _and _the Hermes cabin looking for it. he needs something in bunker eleven. Even with his power he can't get past the traps because there aren't any locks involved in the traps. He can't get to that bunker!"

"Why? Can't we just give him the map?" Connor asked.

"No! dude, he could have asked me for it because _I am the one who drew it_! So why didn't he?" I asked in my _put the pieces together _voice.

"Because . . . he doesn't want you to know he went down there!" Travis exclaimed.

"Exactly. So if he can't tell me, he can't get in. take the map and destroy it!" I begged.

"Sure, we'll go right now and IM you back once we've done it." Connor said.

"Thanks. Listen I've gotta go. Just make sure nothing is left of that map!"

They nodded then swiped at the IM, cutting our connection.

I returned to my brother and friends.

* * *

"Percy!" His scarred face broke into a grin. "Is that Annabeth, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?"

"We're ... uh ... fine," Annabeth stammered. She was madly straightening her dirty T-shirt, trying to comb the loose hair out of her face.

"We thought—Chiron—I mean—"

"He's down at the cabins." Luke's smile faded. "We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Is Grover all right?"

"I'm right here," Grover called, just as Mari came back to join us. She waved at Luke than stepped out of the view of the message. Grover held the nozzle out to one side and stepped into Luke's line of vision. "What kind of issues?"

Just then a big Lincoln Continental pulled into the car wash with its stereo turned to maximum hip-hop. As the car slid into the next stall, the bass from the subwoofers vibrated so much, it shook the pavement.

"Chiron had to—what's that noise?" Luke yelled.

"I'll take care of it.'" Annabeth yelled back, looking very relieved to have an excuse to get out of sight.

"Grover, come on!"

"What?" Grover said. "But—"

"Give Percy the nozzle and come on!" she ordered.

Grover muttered something about girls being harder to understand than the Oracle at Delphi, then he handed me the spray gun and followed Annabeth. Mari went along and something was off about her. Why was she avoiding her best friend?

I readjusted the hose so I could keep the rainbow going and still see Luke.

"Chiron had to break up a fight," Luke shouted to me over the music. "Things are pretty tense here, Percy. Word leaked out about the Zeus—Poseidon standoff. We're still not sure how—probably the same scumbag who summoned the hellhound.

Now the campers are starting to take sides. It's shaping up like the Trojan War all over again. Aphrodite, Ares, and Apollo are backing Poseidon, more or less. Athena is backing Zeus."

In the next stall, I heard Annabeth and some guy arguing with each other, then the music's volume decreased drastically.

* * *

We ran into the stall with the music blasting moron and Annabeth stomped up to m as he cleaned his windsheild.

"Turn the music down!" she demanded. The guy looked at her and rolled his eyes.

"Buzz off kid," he said dismissively as he began to wipe his windshield. Annabeth's hand curled around the thing he was using to clean it and she slammed it to the ground.

"Turn. It. _Down_," she growled. He didn't listen. In fact, he turned it up. Then she began swearing at him in English and Greek so viciously even I backed up a step. He reached into the car and spun the dial quickly to turn down the volume and soon it was at the normal levels of sound.

* * *

"So what's your status?" Luke asked me. "Chiron will be sorry he missed you."

I told him pretty much everything, including my dreams. It felt so good to see him, to feel like I was back at camp even for a few minutes, that I didn't realize how long I had talked until the beeper went off on the spray machine, and I realized I only had one more minute before the water shut off.

"I wish I could be there," Luke told me. "We can't help much from here, I'm afraid, but listen ... it had to be Hades who took the master bolt. He was there at Olympus at the winter solstice. I was chaperoning a field trip and we saw him."

"But Chiron said the gods can't take each other's magic items directly."

"That's true," Luke said, looking troubled. "Still ... Hades has the helm of darkness. How could anybody else sneak into the throne room and steal the master bolt? You'd have to be invisible."

We were both silent, until Luke seemed to realize what he'd said.

"Oh, hey," he protested. "I didn't mean Annabeth. She and I have known each other forever. She would never ... I mean, she's like a little sister to me."

I wondered if Annabeth would like that description.

* * *

Annabeth glared at the poor moron and her eye twitched. "Turn it off."

"What? But it's already―"

I growled in frustration. Couldn't this be done with already?

I stuck my fist in the little baggie for my drachmas after emptying it and looked at the windows of the car.

"Will you turn it the flack down already?" I hissed. He glared at me and I glared right back.

Then . . . . my fist went through his back window. Then the passenger window behind him. And then I had my hand at his throat.

"I'll snap it. Turn it the hades down _right now._" The man screamed and got into his car, slammed his door, and peeled out. The music was off, and he was gone.

Fina-flackin-lly.

I looked at my companions, then at the glass on the ground.

We began laughing like the crazy demigods that we are.

"Let's get back," Annabeth said through her laughter. We nodded and went back to Percy's stall.

* * *

In the stall next to us, the music stopped completely. A man screamed in terror, car doors slammed, and the Lincoln peeled out of the car wash.

"You'd better go see what that was," Luke said. "Listen, are you wearing the flying shoes? I'll feel better if I know they've done you some good."

"Oh ... uh, yeah!" I tried not to sound like a guilty liar. "Yeah, they've come in handy."

"Really?" He grinned. "They fit and everything?"

The water shut off. The mist started to evaporate.

"Well, take care of yourself out there in Denver," Luke called, his voice getting fainter. "And tell Grover it'll be better this time! Nobody will get turned into a pine tree if he just—"

But the mist was gone, and Luke's image faded to nothing. I was alone in a wet, empty car wash stall.

Annabeth, Mari, and Grover came around the corner, laughing, but stopped when they saw my face. Annabeth's smile faded. "What happened, Percy? What did Luke say?"

"Not much," I lied, my stomach feeling as empty as a Big Three cabin.

"Come on, let's find some dinner."

A few minutes later, we were sitting at a booth in a gleaming chrome diner. All around us, families were eating burgers and drinking malts and sodas. Finally the waitress came over. She raised her eyebrow skeptically. "Well?"

I said, "We, um, want to order dinner."

"You kids have money to pay for it?"

Grover's lower lip quivered. I was afraid he would start bleating, or worse, start eating the linoleum. Annabeth looked ready to pass out from hunger. Mari just sat there, I think she was going to faint. I was trying to think up a sob story for the waitress when a rumble shook the whole building; a motorcycle the size of a baby elephant had pulled up to the curb.

All conversation in the diner stopped. The motorcycle's headlight glared red. Its gas tank had flames painted on it, and a shotgun holster riveted to either side, complete with shotguns. The seat was leather—but leather that looked like ... well, Caucasian human skin.

The guy on the bike would've made pro wrestlers run for Mama. He was dressed in a red muscle shirt and black jeans and a black leather duster, with a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. He wore red wraparound shades, and he had the cruelest, most brutal face I'd ever seen— handsome, I guess, but wicked—with an oily black crew cut and cheeks that were scarred from many, many fights. The weird thing was, I felt like I'd seen his face somewhere before.

As he walked into the diner, a hot, dry wind blew through the place. All the people rose, as if they were hypnotized, but the biker waved his hand dismissively and they all sat down again. Everybody went back to their conversations. The waitress blinked, as if somebody had just pressed the rewind button on her brain. She asked us again, "You kids have money to pay for it?"

The biker said, "It's on me." He slid into our booth, which was way too small for him, and crowded Annabeth against the window. Mari pretty much sat in my lap to make enough space for Annabeth. If she hadn't our blonde friend would have been flattened. The guy smirked at us.

He looked up at the waitress, who was gaping at him, and said, "Are you still here?" He pointed at her, and she stiffened. She turned as if she'd been spun around, then marched back toward the kitchen.

"That was rude," Mari grumbled. He turned to her and he raised an eyebrow. She just narrowed her eyes and looked away from him.

The biker looked at me. I couldn't see his eyes behind the red shades, but bad feelings started boiling in my stomach. Anger, resentment, bitterness. I wanted to hit a wall. I wanted to pick a fight with somebody. Who did this guy think he was?

He gave me a wicked grin. "So you're old Seaweed's kids, huh?"

I should've been surprised, or scared, but instead I felt like I was looking at my stepdad, Gabe. I wanted to rip this guy's head off. "What's it to you?"

Annabeth's eyes flashed me a warning. "Percy, this is—"

The biker raised his hand.

"S'okay," he said. "I don't mind a little attitude. Long as you remember who's the boss. You know who I am, little cousin?"

Then it struck me why this guy looked familiar. He had the same vicious sneer as some of the kids at Camp Half-Blood, the ones from cabin five.

"You're Clarisse's dad," I said. "Ares, god of war."

Ares grinned and took off his shades. Where his eyes should've been, there was only fire, empty sockets glowing with miniature nuclear explosions. "That's right, punk. I heard you broke Clarisse's spear."

"She was asking for it."

"Probably. That's cool. I don't fight my kids' fights, you know? What I'm here for—I heard you were in town. I got a little proposition for you."

* * *

I still wasn't going to eat at this dinner. Just some more water. Then Ares, my least favorite cousin, came along. The way he controlled people, and what he did to the waitress, really pissed me off. Sure, being around him makes negative feelings easy to get wrapped up in, but either way he is still a total jerk. I wouldn't be using my brother as a seat if he wasn't here. When Ares is around, nothing good could possibly happen. Trust me, I learned from experience.

* * *

The waitress came back with heaping trays of food—cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and chocolate shakes.

Ares handed her a few gold drachmas. She looked nervously at the coins. "But, these aren't..."

Ares pulled out his huge knife and started cleaning his fingernails. "Problem, sweetheart?"

The waitress swallowed, then left with the gold.

"You can't do that," I told Ares. "You can't just threaten people with a knife."

Ares laughed. "Are you kidding? I love this country. Best place since Sparta. Don't you carry a weapon, punk? You should. Dangerous world out there. Which brings me to my proposition. I need you to do me a favor."

"What favor could I do for a god?"

"Something a god doesn't have time to do himself. It's nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was going on a little ... date with my girlfriend. We were interrupted. I left my shield behind. I want you to fetch it for me."

* * *

Like I said, nothing good can come from Ares. Why do you think we have cabin five? They're nothing good. They came from Ares. Point made.

* * *

"Why don't you go back and get it yourself?"

The fire in his eye sockets glowed a little hotter.

"Why don't I turn you into a prairie dog and run you over with my Harley? Because I don't feel like it. A god is giving you an opportunity to prove yourself, Percy Jackson. Will you prove yourself a coward?" He leaned forward. "Or maybe you only fight when there's a river to dive into, so your daddy can protect you."

I wanted to punch this guy, but somehow, I knew he was waiting for that. Ares's power was causing my anger. He'd love it if I attacked. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"We're not interested," I said. "We've already got a quest."

Ares's fiery eyes made me see things I didn't want to see—blood and smoke and corpses on the battlefield. "I know all about your quest, punk. When that _item _was first stolen, Zeus sent his best out looking for it: Apollo, Athena, Artemis, and me, naturally. If I couldn't sniff out a weapon that powerful ..." He licked his lips, as if the very thought of the master bolt made him hungry. "Well ... if I couldn't find it, you got no hope. Nevertheless, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your dad and I go way back. After all, I'm the one who told him my suspicions about old Corpse Breath."

"You told him Hades stole the bolt?"

"Sure. Framing somebody to start a war. Oldest trick in the book. I recognized it immediately. In a way, you got me to thank for your little quest."

"Thanks," I grumbled.

"Hey, I'm a generous guy. Just do my little job, and I'll help you on your way. I'll arrange a ride west for you and your friends."

"We're doing fine on our own."

"Yeah, right. No money. No wheels. No clue what you're up against. Help me out, and maybe I'll tell you something you need to know. Something about your mom."

"My mom?"

He grinned. "That got your attention. The water park is a mile west on Delancy. You can't miss it. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride."

"What interrupted your date?" I asked. "Something scare you off?"

Ares bared his teeth, but I'd seen his threatening look before on Clarisse. There was something false about it, almost like he was nervous.

* * *

I wasn't the fondest of Aphrodite either. She's too perfect. I don't think she's ever gone and taken up the natural and laid back look in her whole life. She's too fake for my taste. You can see I'm in no rush to help either of them. Ares went on and on about his stupid shield and then everybody was misted so that Ares could make his getaway. Typical.

* * *

"You're lucky you met me, punk, and not one of the other Olympians. They're not as forgiving of rudeness as I am. I'll meet you back here when you're done. Don't disappoint me."

After that I must have fainted, or fallen into a trance, because when I opened my eyes again, Ares was gone. I might've thought the conversation had been a dream, but Mari, Annabeth, and Grover's expressions told me otherwise.

"Not good," Grover said. "Ares sought you out, Percy. This is not good."

I stared out the window. The motorcycle had disappeared.

Did Ares really know something about my mom, or was he just playing with me? Now that he was gone, all the anger had drained out of me. I realized Ares must love to mess with people's emotions. That was his power—cranking up the passions so badly, they clouded your ability to think.

"It's probably some kind of trick," I said. "Forget Ares. Let's just go."

"We can't," Mari said. "Look, I hate Ares as much as anybody, but you don't ignore the gods unless you want serious bad fortune. He wasn't kidding about turning you into a rodent. That would probably turn me into one too. Then I'd kill you for getting me turned into a rodent."

I looked down at my cheeseburger, which suddenly didn't seem so appetizing. "Why does he need us?"

"Maybe it's a problem that requires brains," Annabeth said. "Ares has strength. That's all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes."

"But this water park ... he acted almost scared. What would make a war god run away like that?"

Annabeth and Grover glanced nervously at each other. Mari looked at the water in her cup.

Annabeth said, "I'm afraid we'll have to find out."

The sun was sinking behind the mountains by the time we found the water park. Judging from the sign, it once had been called WATERLAND, but now some of the letters were smashed out, so it read WAT R A D.

* * *

I think I'll call WATRAD the Wet Rat. It seems easier to say than WATRAD. And it's catchy. To me anyway.

* * *

The main gate was padlocked and topped with barbed wire. Inside, huge dry waterslides and tubes and pipes curled everywhere, leading to empty pools. Old tickets and advertisements fluttered around the asphalt. With night coming on, the place looked sad and creepy.

"If Ares brings his girlfriend here for a date," I said, staring up at the barbed wire, "I'd hate to see what she looks like."

"Percy," Annabeth warned. "Be more respectful."

"Why? I thought you hated Ares."

"He's still a god. And his girlfriend is very temperamental."

"You don't want to insult her looks," Grover added.

"Who is she? Echidna?"

"No, Aphrodite," Grover said, a little dreamily. "Goddess of love."

"I thought she was married to somebody," I said. "Hephaestus."

"What's your point?" he asked.

"Oh." I suddenly felt the need to change the subject. "So how do we get in?"

_"Maia!" _Grover's shoes sprouted wings.

He flew over the fence, did an unintended somersault in midair, then stumbled to a landing on the opposite side. He dusted off his jeans, as if he'd planned the whole thing. "You guys coming?"

Annabeth, Mari, and I had to climb the old-fashioned way, holding down the barbed wire for each other as we crawled over the top.

The shadows grew long as we walked through the park, checking out the attractions. There was Ankle Biter Island, Head Over Wedgie, and Dude, Where's My Swimsuit?

No monsters came to get us. Nothing made the slightest noise.

* * *

Wet Rat was abandoned. No monsters. No people. No wind. No water. It was too still. So obviously, we were in for something horrible. I sighed as we spotted the stupidest rides ever and a gift shop. This is not a place for a good date.

* * *

We found a souvenir shop that had been left open. Merchandise still lined the shelves: snow globes, pencils, postcards, and racks of—

"Clothes," Annabeth said. "Fresh clothes."

"Yeah," I said. "But you can't just—"

"Watch me."

She snatched an entire row of stuff of the racks and disappeared into the changing room. A few minutes later she came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland T-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes. A Waterland backpack was slung over her shoulder, obviously stuffed with more goodies.

"What the heck." Grover shrugged. Soon, all four of us were decked out like walking advertisements for the defunct theme park.

We continued searching for the Tunnel of Love. I got the feeling that the whole park was holding its breath.

"So Ares and Aphrodite," I said, to keep my mind off the growing dark, "they have a thing going?"

"That's old gossip, Percy," Annabeth told me. "Three-thousand-year-old gossip."

"What about Aphrodite's husband?"

"Well, you know," she said. "Hephaestus. The black smith. He was crippled when he was a baby, thrown off Mount Olympus by Zeus. So he isn't exactly handsome. Clever with his hands, and all, but Aphrodite isn't into brains and talent, you know?"

"She likes bikers."

"Whatever."

"Hephaestus knows?"

"Oh sure," Annabeth said. "He caught them together once. I mean, literally caught them, in a golden net, and invited all the gods to come and laugh at them. Hephaestus is always trying to embarrass them. That's why they meet in out-of-the-way places, like ..." She stopped, looking straight ahead. "Like that."

* * *

In front of us was an empty pool that would've been awesome for skateboarding. It was at least fifty yards across and shaped like a bowl.

Around the rim, a dozen bronze statues of Cupid stood guard with wings spread and bows ready to fire. On the opposite side from us, a tunnel opened up, probably where the water flowed into when the pool was full. The sign above it read, THRILL RIDE O' LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENTS' TUNNEL OF LOVE!

Dorky much?

* * *

Grover crept toward the edge. "Guys, look."

Marooned at the bottom of the pool was a pink-and-white two-seater boat with a canopy over the top and little hearts painted all over it. In the left seat, glinting in the fading light, was Ares's shield, a polished circle of bronze.

"This is too easy," I said. "So we just walk down there and get it?"

Annabeth ran her fingers along the base of the nearest Cupid statue.

"There's a Greek letter carved here," she said. "Eta. I wonder ..."

"Grover," I said, "you smell any monsters?"

He sniffed the wind. "Nothing."

"Nothing—like, in-the-Arch-and-you-didn't-smell-Echidna nothing, or really nothing?"

Grover looked hurt. "I told you, that was underground."

"Okay, I'm sorry." I took a deep breath. "I'm going down there."

"I'll go with you." Grover didn't sound too enthusiastic, but I got the feeling he was trying to make up for what had happened in St. Louis.

"No," I told him. "I want you to stay up top with the flying shoes. You're the Red Baron, a flying ace, remember? I'll be counting on you for backup, in case something goes wrong."

Grover puffed up his chest a little. "Sure. But what could go wrong?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling. Annabeth, come with me—"

"Are you kidding?" She looked at me as if I'd just dropped from the moon. Her cheeks were bright red. Mari began to chuckle.

"What's the problem now?" I demanded.

"Me, go with you to the ... the 'Thrill Ride of Love'? How embarrassing is that? What if somebody saw me?"

"Who's going to see you?" But my face was burning now, too. Leave it to a girl to make everything complicated.

"Fine," Mari huffed. "I'll go. Then I get to tell everybody at camp I can do stuff that you can't."

"Oh fine!" Annabeth said in exhasaperation. Mari grinned.

"Good. Do you know how gross it looks to see _twins _in a tunnel of love ride? Like really," Mari said with a shudder.

"You tricked her?" I asked. She rolled her eyes and grinned mischievously.

"I grew up with Hermes kids. I can trick anyone I fell like tricking." She shooed me and Annabeth down into the pool. "Go on, we don't have all day."

We reached the boat. The shield was propped on one seat, and next to it was a lady's silk scarf. I tried to imagine Ares and Aphrodite here, a couple of gods meeting in a junked-out amusement-park ride. Why? Then I noticed something I hadn't seen from up top: mirrors all the way around the rim of the pool, facing this spot. We could see ourselves no matter which direction we looked. That must be it. While Ares and Aphrodite were smooching with each other they could look at their favorite people: themselves.

I picked up the scarf. It shimmered pink, and the perfume was indescribable—rose, or mountain laurel. Something good. I smiled, a little dreamy, and was about to rub the scarf against my cheek when Annabeth ripped it out of my hand and stuffed it in her pocket. "Oh, no you don't. Stay away from that love magic."

"What?"

"Just get the shield, Seaweed Brain, and let's get out of here."

* * *

"I swear those two are ridiculous," I laughed. Grover grinned at me and pointed at them.

"Such a cute couple about to take a ride in the tunnel of love. If only we could snap a picture."

"Oh gods if the Stolls got that it'd be _everywhere_," I laughed. Then the traps sprung. My sixth sense told me one thing. _It's Percy's fault._

* * *

The moment I touched the shield, I knew we were in trouble. My hand broke through something that had been connecting it to the dashboard. A cobweb, I thought, but then I looked at a strand of it on my palm and saw it was some kind of metal filament, so fine it was almost invisible. A trip wire.

"Wait," Annabeth said.

"Too late."

"There's another Greek letter on the side of the boat, another Eta. This is a trap."

Noise erupted all around us, of a million gears grinding, as if the whole pool were turning into one giant machine.

Grover yelled, "Guys!"

Up on the rim, the Cupid statues were drawing their bows into firing position. Before I could suggest taking cover, they shot, but not at us. They fired at each other, across the rim of the pool. Silky cables trailed from the arrows, arcing over the pool and anchoring where they landed to form a huge golden asterisk. Then smaller metallic threads started weaving together magically between the main strands, making a net.

"We have to get out," I said.

"Duh!" Annabeth said.

I grabbed the shield and we ran, but going up the slope of the pool was not as easy as going down.

"Come on!" Mari shouted.

She and Grover were trying to hold open a section of the net for us, but wherever they touched it, the golden threads started to wrap around their hands.

The Cupids' heads popped open. Out came video cameras. Spotlights rose up all around the pool, blinding us with illumination, and a loudspeaker voice boomed: "Live to Olympus in one minute ... Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight ..."

"Hephaestus!" Annabeth screamed. "I'm so stupid. 'Eta' is 'H.' He made this trap to catch his wife with Ares. Now we're going to be broadcast live to Olympus and look like absolute fools!"

We'd almost made it to the rim when the row of mirrors opened like hatches and thousands of tiny metallic ... things poured out.

Annabeth screamed.

* * *

Oh no. They were doomed. Why, oh why, did Hephaestus have to use spiders? I couldn't get the sound of Annabeth creaming out of my head and I began to remember something from five years ago.

So many screams. So many sobs. We were doomed. Annabeth had saved the day that time.

Could she do it now?

* * *

It was an army of wind-up creepy-crawlies: bronze-gear bodies, spindly legs, little pincer mouths, all scuttling toward us in a wave of clacking, whirring metal.

"Spiders!" Annabeth said. "Sp—sp—aaaah!"

I'd never seen her like this before. She fell backward in terror and almost got overwhelmed by the spider robots before I pulled her up and dragged her back toward the boat.

The things were coming out from all around the rim now, millions of them, flooding toward the center of the pool, completely surrounding us. I told myself they probably weren't programmed to kill, just corral us and bite us and make us look stupid. Then again, this was a trap meant for gods. And we weren't gods.

Annabeth and I climbed into the boat.

I started kicking away the spiders as they swarmed aboard. I yelled at Annabeth to help me, but she was too paralyzed to do much more than scream.

"Thirty, twenty-nine," called the loudspeaker.

The spiders started spitting out strands of metal thread, trying to tie us down. The strands were easy enough to break at first, but there were so many of them, and the spiders just kept coming. I kicked one away from Annabeth's leg and its pincers took a chunk out of my new surf shoe.

Grover hovered above the pool in his flying sneakers, trying to pull the net loose, but it wouldn't budge.

Think, I told myself. Think.

The Tunnel of Love entrance was under the net. We could use it as an exit, except that it was blocked by a million robot spiders.

"Fifteen, fourteen," the loudspeaker called.

Water, I thought. Where does the ride's water come from?

Then I saw them: huge water pipes behind the mirrors, where the spiders had come from. And up above the net, next to one of the Cupids, a glass-windowed booth that must be the controller's station.

"Grover!" I yelled. "Get into that booth! Find the 'on' switch!"

"But—"

"Do it!" It was a crazy hope, but it was our only chance. The spiders were all over the prow of the boat now. Annabeth was screaming her head off. I had to get us out of there.

Grover was in the controller's booth now, slamming away at the buttons.

"Five, four—"

Grover looked up at me hopelessly, raising his hands. He was letting me know that he'd pushed every button, but still nothing was happening.

* * *

There was nothing we could do. The water wouldn't start. They were going to die.

I could hear Annabeth's screams. My own. Thalia's.

I slammed my hands over my ears and hunched over, trying to block it all out. It wasn't working. They wouldn't make it. Our screams would never stop. We'd die. We were going to be stuck in the maze of a mansion forever.

* * *

I closed my eyes and thought about waves, rushing water, the Mississippi River. I felt a familiar tug in my gut. I tried to imagine that I was dragging the ocean all the way to Denver.

"Two, one, _zero_!"

Water exploded out of the pipes. It roared into the pool, sweeping away the spiders. I pulled Annabeth into the seat next to me and fastened her seat belt just as the tidal wave slammed into our boat, over the top, whisking the spiders away and dousing us completely, but not capsizing us. The boat turned, lifted in the flood, and spun in circles around the whirlpool.

The water was full of short-circuiting spiders, some of them smashing against the pool's concrete wall with such force they burst.

Spotlights glared down at us. The Cupid-cams were rolling, live to Olympus.

But I could only concentrate on controlling the boat. I willed it to ride the current, to keep away from the wall. Maybe it was my imagination, but the boat seemed to respond. At least, it didn't break into a million pieces. We spun around one last time, the water level now almost high enough to shred us against the metal net. Then the boat's nose turned toward the tunnel and we rocketed through into the darkness.

Annabeth and I held tight, both of us screaming as the boat shot curls and hugged corners and took forty-five-degree plunges past pictures of Romeo and Juliet and a bunch of other Valentine's Day stuff.

Then we were out of the tunnel, the night air whistling through our hair as the boat barreled straight toward the exit.

If the ride had been in working order, we would've sailed off a ramp between the golden Gates of Love and splashed down safely in the exit pool. But there was a problem. The Gates of Love were chained. Two boats that had been washed out of the tunnel before us were now piled against the barricade—one submerged, the other cracked in half.

"Unfasten your seat belt," I yelled to Annabeth.

"Are you crazy?"

"Unless you want to get smashed to death." I strapped Ares's shield to my arm. "We're going to have to jump for it." My idea was simple and insane. As the boat struck, we would use its force like a springboard to jump the gate. I'd heard of people surviving car crashes that way, getting thrown thirty or forty feet away from an accident. With luck, we would land in the pool.

Annabeth seemed to understand. She gripped my hand as the gates got closer.

"On my mark," I said.

"No! On my mark! Simple physics!" she yelled. "Force times the trajectory angle—"

"Fine.'" I shouted. "On _your _mark!"

She hesitated ... hesitated ... then yelled, "Now!"

_Crack!_

Annabeth was right.

If we'd jumped when I thought we should've, we would've crashed into the gates. She got us maximum lift.

* * *

"Come on!" I heard Grover shouting at me. When did Grover get here?

"We have to get there others," I yelled as I fought against his grip.

"Mari! We're at the waterpark! Percy and Annabeth need our help!"

Wait . . . Percy?

The screams froze, I could hear rushing water. What the heck was going on? I shook my head and Grover picked me up before flying us over to the other side before dropping me onto the ground and flying off again. A little while later, Grover, Annabeth, and Percy came hurtling toward a photo board. Hey, it's better than the asphalt.

* * *

Unfortunately, that was a little more than we needed. Our boat smashed into the pileup and we were thrown into the air, straight over the gates, over the pool, and down toward solid asphalt.

Something grabbed me from behind.

Annabeth yelled, "Ouch!"

Grover!

In midair, he had grabbed me by the shirt, and Annabeth by the arm, and was trying to pull us out of a crash landing, but Annabeth and I had all the momentum.

"You're too heavy!" Grover said. "We're going down!"

We spiraled toward the ground, Grover doing his best to slow the fall.

We smashed into a photo-board, Grover's head going straight into the hole where tourists would put their faces, pretending to be Noo-Noo the Friendly Whale. Annabeth and I tumbled to the ground, banged up but alive. Ares's shield was still on my arm.

Once we caught our breath, Annabeth and I got Grover out of the photo-board and thanked him for saving our lives. Mari tackled me and Annabeth in a hug, mumbling about mansions. I looked back at the Thrill Ride of Love. The water was subsiding. Our boat had been smashed to pieces against the gates.

A hundred yards away, at the entrance pool, the Cupids were still filming.

The statues had swiveled so that their cameras were trained straight on us, the spotlights in our faces.

"Show's over!" I yelled. "Thank you! Good night!"

The Cupids turned back to their original positions. The lights shut off. The park went quiet and dark again, except for the gentle trickle of water into the Thrill Ride of Love's exit pool. I wondered if Olympus had gone to a commercial break, or if our ratings had been any good.

I hated being teased. I hated being tricked. And I had plenty of experience handling bullies who liked to do that stuff to me. I hefted the shield on my arm and turned to my friends. "We need to have a little talk with Ares."

* * *

So, what's up with Mari? Anyway, like I said, updates now equal few and far between. Sorry.

_**HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO NIALL JAMES HORAN! NINETEEN! I LOVE YOU!**_

XOXO

~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis

* * *

**I'm back again to upload some more. Sorry if it sucks and my uploads are even fewer and far in between because I'm freshmen my new highschool and it's fun because I'm woth friends but my schedule for FF and anything fun is like, burned to ashes. I'll update again after this 'mass' upload in maybe two weeks? Sooner? I just hope you all stick with me til then.**

**xoxo**

**~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis**

**oh and**

_**IT'S NIALL JAMES HORAN'S BIRTHDAY! WISH HIM A HAPPY BIRTHDAY ON TWITTER OR WHEREVER. LOVE YOU NIALL!**_

oh and if i get the chapter orders wrong or miss a chapter PLEASE tell me because i'm confused and tired and freshamn so I can use all the help I'd get.


	17. Chapter 16

Hey. I'm back for a bit. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me HOW MANY days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to everybody who reads it.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**We Take a Zebra to Vegas**

* * *

The war god was waiting for us in the diner parking lot.

"Well, well," he said. "You didn't get yourself killed."

"You knew it was a trap," I said.

Ares gave me a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled black smith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV."

I shoved his shield at him. "You're a jerk."

Annabeth and Grover caught their breath. Mari puffed out a breath as she tried not to laugh.

Ares grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. He slung it across his back.

"See that truck over there?" He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner. "That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas."

The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which I could read only because it was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.

I said, "You're kidding."

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to me.

Inside were fresh clothes for all of us, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuff Oreos.

I said, "I don't want your lousy—"

"Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted, giving me his best red-alert warning look. "Thanks a lot."

I gritted my teeth. It was probably a deadly insult to refuse something from a god, but I didn't want anything that Ares had touched. Reluctantly, I slung the backpack over my shoulder. I knew my anger was being caused by the war god's presence, but I was still itching to punch him in the nose. He reminded me of every bully I'd ever faced: Nancy Bobofit, Clarisse, Smelly Gabe, sarcastic teachers—every jerk who'd called me stupid in school or laughed at me when I'd gotten expelled.

I looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. The waitress who'd served us dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt us. She dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. She said something to him. He nodded, held up a little disposable camera and snapped a picture of us.

Great, I thought. We'll make the papers again tomorrow.

I imagined the headline: TWELVE-YEAR-OLD OUTLAW BEATS UP DEFENSELESS BIKER.

"You owe me one more thing," I told Ares, trying to keep my voice level. "You promised me information about my mother."

"You sure you can handle the news?" He kick started his motorcycle. "She's not dead."

The ground seemed to spin beneath me. Mari stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she was taken away from the Minotaur before she could die. She was turned into a shower of gold, right? That's metamorphosis. Not death. She's being kept."

"Kept. Why?"

"You need to study war, punk. Hostages. You take somebody to control somebody else."

"Nobody's controlling me."

He laughed. "Oh yeah? See you around, kid."

I balled up my fists. "You're pretty smug, Lord Ares, for a guy who runs from Cupid statues."

Behind his sunglasses, fire glowed. I felt a hot wind in my hair. "We'll meet again, Percy Jackson. Next time you're in a fight, watch your back."

He revved his Harley, then roared off down Delancy Street.

Annabeth said, "That was not smart, Percy."

"I don't care."

"You don't want a god as your enemy. Especially not that god."

"Annabeth, we don't care. Ares is an idiot," Mari growled. I held back a small smile, leave it to my sister to take the words from my mouth.

"Mari you kn―"

"Hey, guys," Grover said. "I hate to interrupt, but ..."

He pointed toward the diner. At the register, the last two customers were paying their check, two men in identical black coveralls, with a white logo on their backs that matched the one on the KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL truck.

"If we're taking the zoo express," Grover said, "we need to hurry."

I didn't like it, but we had no better option. Besides, I'd seen enough of Denver.

We ran across the street and climbed in the back of the big rig, closing the doors behind us.

* * *

I can't believe we have to hitch a ride in an animal transport truck. Really? How gross is that. I examined my hands to see the threads of gold had left marks where they had wound around my hands and there was blood on my fingers tips. I reached behind my ears and more blood appeared on my fingers. Great, another flashback gone wrong. I swear when those things hit me, I should be put in a straight jacket.

I completely forgot that when we boarded the truck. If smells could kill, this one should definitely be put on the top five list of deadly smells.

* * *

The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was like the world's biggest pan of kitty litter.

The trailer was dark inside until I uncapped Anaklusmos and Mari uncapped Parlía. The blades cast a faint bronze light over a very sad scene. Sitting in a row of filthy metal cages were three of the most pathetic zoo animals I'd ever beheld: a zebra, a male albino lion, and some weird antelope thing I didn't know the name for.

Someone had thrown the lion a sack of turnips, which he obviously didn't want to eat. The zebra and the antelope had each gotten a Styrofoam tray of hamburger meat. The zebra's mane was matted with chewing gum, like somebody had been spitting on it in their spare time. The antelope had a stupid silver birthday balloon tied to one of his horns that read OVER THE HILL!

Apparently, nobody had wanted to get close enough to the lion to mess with him, but the poor thing was pacing around on soiled blankets, in a space way too small for him, panting from the stuffy heat of the trailer. He had flies buzzing around his pink eyes and his ribs showed through his white fur.

"This is kindness?" Grover yelled. "Humane zoo transport?"

He probably would've gone right back outside to beat up the truckers with his reed pipes, and I would've helped him, but just then the trucks engine roared to life, the trailer started shaking, and we were forced to sit down or fall down.

We huddled in the corner on some mildewed feed sacks, trying to ignore the smell and the heat and the flies. Grover talked to the animals in a series of goat bleats, but they just stared at him sadly. Annabeth was in favor of breaking the cages and freeing them on the spot, but I pointed out it wouldn't do much good until the truck stopped moving.

Besides, I had a feeling we might look a lot better to the lion than those turnips.

I found a water jug and refilled their bowls, then Mari and I used our swords to drag the mismatched food out of their cages. I gave the meat to the lion and she gave the turnips to the zebra and the antelope.

Grover calmed the antelope down, while Annabeth used her knife to cut the balloon off his horn. She wanted to cut the gum out of the zebra's mane, too, but we decided that would be too risky with the truck bumping around. We told Grover to promise the animals we'd help them more in the morning, then we settled in for night.

Grover curled up on a turnip sack; Annabeth opened our bag of Double Stuff Oreos and nibbled on one halfheartedly; I get the feeling I'm now a travel sized pillow because Mari used me as a pillow again; I tried to cheer myself up by concentrating on the fact that we were halfway to Los Angeles. Halfway to our destination.

* * *

Thinking of the quest bothered me. Right now we were on a quest, Luke was being secretive about the bunker, I doubt my flashbacks have ended, and we were in a smelly truck with animals and the Zebra kept talking to me.

We have to get the lightning bolt by the twenty-first. It was only June fourteenth. The solstice wasn't until the twenty-first. We could make it in plenty of time.

* * *

On the other hand, I had no idea what to expect next. The gods kept toying with me. At least Hephaestus had the decency to be honest about it—he'd put up cameras and advertised me as entertainment. But even when the cameras weren't rolling, I had a feeling my quest was being watched. I was a source of amusement for the gods.

"Hey," Annabeth said, "I'm sorry for freaking out back at the water park, Percy."

"That's okay."

"It's just..." She shuddered. "Spiders."

"Because of the Arachne story," I guessed. "She got turned into a spider for challenging your mom to a weaving contest, right?"

Annabeth nodded. "Arachne's children have been taking revenge on the children of Athena ever since. If there's a spider within a mile of me, it'll find me. I hate the creepy little things. Anyway, I owe you."

"We're a team, remember?" I said. "Besides, Grover did the fancy flying."

I thought he was asleep, but he mumbled from the corner, "I was pretty amazing, wasn't I?"

Annabeth and I laughed.

"You know, you should have seen Annabeth while we watched spiderman. I think _he _terrifies her more than anything," Mari giggled. Annabeth reached over and whacked her shoulder.

"Shut up," she said, but she had a small smile tugging at her lips. "Spiderman _is _evil though."

Mari began to giggle before she reached for her dagger, probably to play with, and came up empty handed. She sighed and her hands balled up into fists before she relaxed and hid her face in my stomach. I can't lie, it tickled.

Annabeth pulled apart an Oreo, handed me half. "In the Iris message ... did Luke really say nothing?"

I munched my cookie and thought about how to answer. The conversation via rainbow had bothered me all evening. "Luke said you and he go way back. He also said Grover wouldn't fail this time. Nobody would turn into a pine tree."

In the dim bronze light of the sword blade, it was hard to read their expressions. Mari shifted against me and I felt my head hurt. She had a headache now. Grover let out a mournful bray.

"I should've told you the truth from the beginning." His voice trembled. "I thought if you knew what a failure I was, you wouldn't want me along."

"You were the satyr who tried to rescue Thalia, the daughter of Zeus."

He nodded glumly.

"And the other three half-bloods Thalia befriended, the ones who got safely to camp ..." I looked at Annabeth. "That was you and Luke, wasn't it? And another?"

She put down her Oreo, uneaten. "Like you said, Percy, a seven-year-old half-blood wouldn't have made it very far alone. Athena guided me toward help. Thalia was twelve. Luke was fourteen. They'd both run away from home, like me. They were happy to take me with them. They were ... amazing monster-fighters, even without training. About a week later we found Mari. We traveled north from Virginia without any real plans, fending off monsters for about two weeks before Grover found us."

"I was supposed to escort Thalia to camp," he said, sniffling. "Only Thalia. I had strict orders from Chiron: don't do anything that would slow down the rescue. We knew Hades was after her, see, but I couldn't just leave Luke and Annabeth by themselves. No way could I leave Mari. I'd pretty much grown up with her, and Chiron had sent some other Satyrs out to find her too.

I thought ... I thought I could lead all four of them to safety. It was my fault the Kindly Ones caught up with us. I froze. I got scared on the way back to camp and took some wrong turns. If I'd just been a little quicker …"

"Stop it," Annabeth said. "No one blames you. Thalia didn't blame you either."

"She sacrificed herself to save us," he said miserably, "Her death was my fault. The Council of Cloven Elders said so."

"Because you wouldn't leave three other half-bloods behind?" I said. "That's not fair."

"Percy's right," Annabeth said. "I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for you, Grover. Neither would Luke and I doubt Mari would have made it either. We don't care what the council says."

Grover kept sniffling in the dark. "It's just my luck. I'm the lamest satyr ever, and I find the three most powerful half-bloods of the century, Thalia, Marisol, and Percy."

"You're not lame," Mari insisted. "You've got more courage than any satyr I've ever met. Name one other who would dare go to the Underworld. I know Percy is really glad you're here right now."

She punched my shin.

"Yeah," I said, which I would've done even without the punch.

"It's not luck that you found Thalia, Mari, and me, Grover. You've got the biggest heart of any satyr ever. You're a natural searcher. That's why you'll be the one who finds Pan."

I heard a deep, satisfied sigh. I waited for Grover to say something, but his breathing only got heavier. When the sound turned to snoring, I realized he'd fallen sleep.

"How does he do that?" I marveled.

"I don't know," Annabeth said. "But that was really a nice thing you told him."

"I meant it."

We rode in silence for a few miles, bumping around on the feed sacks. The zebra munched a turnip. The lion licked the last of the hamburger meat off his lips and looked at me hopefully.

Annabeth rubbed her necklace like she was thinking deep, strategic thoughts.

"That pine-tree bead," I said. "Is that from your first year?"

She looked. She hadn't realized what she was doing.

"Yeah," she said. "Every August, the counselors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it on that year's beads. I've got Thalia's pine tree, a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress—now _that _was a weird summer..."

"Definitely," Mari giggled.

"And the college ring is your father's?" I asked Annabeth.

"That's none of your—" She stopped herself. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"You don't have to tell me."

"No ... it's okay." She took a shaky breath. "My dad sent it to me folded up in a letter, two summers ago. The ring was, like, his main keepsake from Athena. He wouldn't have gotten through his doctoral program at Harvard without her... That's a long story. Anyway, he said he wanted me to have it. He apologized for being a jerk, said he loved me and missed me. He wanted me to come home and live with him."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"Yeah, well... the problem was, I believed him. I tried to go home for that school year, but my stepmom was the same as ever. She didn't want her kids put in danger by living with a freak. Monsters attacked. We argued. Monsters attacked. We argued. I didn't even make it through winter break. I called Chiron and came right back to Camp Half-Blood."

"You think you'll ever try living with your dad again?"

She wouldn't meet my eyes. "Please. I'm not into self-inflicted pain."

"You shouldn't give up," I told her. "You should write him a letter or something."

*I tell her that all of the time. It's a waste of breath,* Mari whispered to me mentally, as though Annabeth might hear.

"Thanks for the advice," she said coldly, "but my father's made his choice about who he wants to live with."

We passed another few miles of silence.

I noticed my sister's necklace.

I never knew a camp necklace could have that many beads.

"Baby in blankets, baby shoes, a caduceus, a sand castle kingdom―which took _hours_ to make, a sword, a dagger, Thalia's pine, a golden arrow in the bulls-eye, centaur in a prom dress, lava wall, and an angry tree nymph," she muttered as she slipped it off her neck and handed it to me. After another few minutes of silence I returned it and turned to Annabeth.

"So if the gods fight," I said, "will things line up the way they did with the Trojan War? Will it be Athena versus Poseidon?"

She put her head against the backpack Ares had given us, and closed her eyes. "I don't know what my mom will do. I just know I'll fight next to you."

"Why?"

"Because you're my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?"

I couldn't think of an answer for that. Fortunately I didn't have to. Annabeth was asleep.

I had trouble following her example, with Grover snoring and an albino lion staring hungrily at me, but eventually I closed my eyes.

* * *

It's not fun when you're the only one awake and a zebra is talking to you.

_Please my lady, set me free. Please._

All I said? _Please, my Zebra, go to sleep._

_Yes m'lady. _

Maybe that was rude, but I was tired and confused. What's with Luke? This quest? This whole ordeal is just so ugh! I felt myself drifting when I heard something I thought I'd never hear again.

_Well, Seaweed Brain? One of us has to get out of here._

I bolted up and looked around. Thalia. I heard Thalia's voice. I know I did.

Or I'm crazy. Both are very probable. I looked at my brother to see him nodding. Why was he dreaming of _Thalia_?

Yeah, I got no sleep that night.

* * *

My nightmare started out as something I'd dreamed a million times before: I was being forced to take a standardized test while wearing a straitjacket.

All the other kids were going out to recess, and the teacher kept saying, _Come-on, Percy. You're not stupid, are you? Pick up your pencil._

Then the dream strayed from the usual.

I looked over at the next desk and saw a girl sitting there, also wearing a straitjacket. She was my age, with unruly black, punk-style hair, dark eyeliner around her stormy green eyes, and freckles across her nose. Somehow, I knew who she was. She was Thalia, daughter of Zeus.

She struggled against the straitjacket, glared at me in frustration, and snapped, _Well, Seaweed Brain? One of us has to get out of here._

She's right, my dream-self thought. I'm going back to that cavern. I'm going to give Hades a piece of my mind.

The straitjacket melted off me. I fell through the class room floor. The teacher's voice changed until it was cold and evil, echoing from the depths of a great chasm.

_Percy Jackson, _it said. _Yes, the exchange went well, I see._

I was back in the dark cavern, spirits of the dead drifting around me. Unseen in the pit, the monstrous thing was speaking, but this time it wasn't addressing me. The numbing power of its voice seemed directed somewhere else.

_And he suspects nothing? _it asked.

Another voice, one I almost recognized, answered at my shoulder. _Nothing, my lord. He is as ignorant as the rest._

I looked over, but no one was there. The speaker was invisible.

_Deception upon deception, _the thing in the pit mused aloud. _Excellent._

_Truly, my lord, _said the voice next to me, _you are well-named the Crooked One. But was it really necessary? I could have brought you what I stole directly _—

_You?_ the monster said in scorn. _You have already shown your limits. You would have failed me completely had I not intervened._

_But, my lord_—

_Peace, little servant. Our six months have bought us much. Zeus's anger has grown. Poseidon has played his most desperate card. Now we shall use it against him. Shortly you shall have the reward you wish, and your revenge. As soon as both items are delivered into my hands ... but wait. He is here._

_What? _The invisible servant suddenly sounded tense. _You summoned him, my lord?_

_No. _The full force of the monsters attention was now pouring over me, freezing me in place. _Blast his father's blood_—_he is too changeable, too unpredictable. The boy brought himself hither._

_Impossible! _the servant cried.

_For a weakling such as you, perhaps, _the voice snarled. Then its cold power turned back on me. _So ... you wish to dream of your quest, young half-blood? Then I will oblige._

The scene changed.

I was standing in a vast throne room with black marble walls and bronze floors. The empty, horrid throne was made from human bones fused together. Standing at the foot of the dais was my mother, frozen in shimmering golden light, her arms outstretched.

I tried to step toward her, but my legs wouldn't move. I reached for her, only to realize that my hands were withering to bones. Grinning skeletons in Greek armor crowded around me, draping me with silk robes, wreathing my head with laurels that smoked with Chimera poison, burning into my scalp.

The evil voice began to laugh. _Hail, the conquering hero!_

I woke with a start.

Grover was shaking my shoulder. "The truck's stopped," he said. "We think they're coming to check on the animals."

"Hide!" Annabeth hissed.

She had it easy. She just put on her magic cap and disappeared.

Grover and I had to dive behind feed sacks and hope we looked like turnips. Mari was frozen to the spot where she slept, and I had to drag her down with me.

She didn't say a thing. I wasn't even sure I heard her breathing until I leaned closer to check.

She was.

The trailer doors creaked open. Sunlight and heat poured in.

"Man!" one of the truckers said, waving his hand in front of his ugly nose. "I wish I hauled appliances." He climbed inside and poured some water from a jug into the animals' dishes.

"You hot, big boy?" he asked the lion, then splashed the rest of the bucket right in the lion's face. The lion roared in indignation.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the man said.

Next to me, under the turnip sacks, Grover tensed. For a peace-loving herbivore, he looked downright murderous.

The trucker threw the antelope a squashed-looking Happy Meal bag. He smirked at the zebra. "How ya doin', Stripes? Least we'll be getting rid of _you _this stop. You like magic shows? You're gonna love this one. They're gonna saw you in half!"

The zebra, wild-eyed with fear, looked straight at me.

There was no sound, but as clear as day, I heard it say: _Free me, lord and lady. Please._

I was too stunned to react. Mari gulped.

"We will," she whispered. I don't know if it heard her.

There was a loud _knock, knock, knock _on the side of the trailer.

The trucker inside with us yelled, "What do you want, Eddie?"

A voice outside—it must've been Eddie's—shouted back, "Maurice? What'd ya say?"

"What are you banging for?"

_Knock, knock, knock._

Outside, Eddie yelled, "What banging?

Our guy Maurice rolled his eyes and went back outside, cursing at Eddie for being an idiot.

A second later, Annabeth appeared next to me. She must've done the banging to get Maurice out of the trailer. She said, "This transport business can't be legal."

"No kidding," Grover said. He paused, as if listening. "The lion says these guys are animal smugglers!"

_That's right, _the zebra's voice said in my mind.

"We've got to free them!" Grover said. He and Annabeth both looked at me, waiting for my lead.

I'd heard the zebra talk, but not the lion. Why? Maybe it was another learning disability ... I could only understand zebras? Then I thought: horses. What had Annabeth said about Poseidon creating horses? Was a zebra close enough to a horse? Was that why I could understand it?

The zebra said, _Open my cage, lord and lady. Please. I'll be fine after that._

Outside, Eddie and Maurice were still yelling at each other, but I knew they'd be coming inside to torment the animals again any minute. I grabbed Riptide and slashed the lock off the zebra's cage. Mari pulled the door open.

The zebra burst out. It turned to us and bowed. _Thank you, lord and lady._

Grover held up his hands and said something to the zebra in goat talk, like a blessing.

Just as Maurice was poking his head back inside to check out the noise, the zebra leaped over him and into the street. There was yelling and screaming and cars honking. We rushed to the doors of the trailer in time to see the zebra galloping down a wide boulevard lined with hotels and casinos and neon signs. We'd just released a zebra in Las Vegas.

Maurice and Eddie ran after it, with a few policemen running after them, shouting, "Hey! You need a permit for that!"

"Now would be a good time to leave," Annabeth said.

"The other animals first," Grover said.

I cut the locks with my sword. Grover raised his hands and spoke the same goat-blessing he'd used for the zebra.

"Good luck," I told the animals. The antelope and the lion burst out of their cages and went off together into the streets.

Some tourists screamed. Most just backed off and took pictures, probably thinking it was some kind of stunt by one of the casinos.

"Will the animals be okay?" I asked Grover. "I mean, the desert and all—"

"Don't worry," he said. "I placed a satyr's sanctuary on them."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning they'll reach the wild safely," he said. "They'll find water, food, shade, whatever they need until they find a safe place to live."

"Why can't you place a blessing like that on us?" I asked.

"It only works on wild animals."

"So it would only affect Percy," Annabeth reasoned.

"Hey!" I protested.

"Kidding," she said. "Come on. Let's get out of this filthy truck."

We stumbled out into the desert afternoon. It was a hundred and ten degrees, easy, and we must've looked like deep-fried vagrants, but everybody was too interested in the wild animals to pay us much attention.

My sister refused to move most of the time so I ended up draping her over my shoulder like a sack of flour. She isn't really heavy, maybe seventy pounds? But I was starting to worry about her. Why was she so … out of it?

* * *

So, maybe I'm crazy. I only spoke to the zebra who I have decided to call Zeebs. I wouldn't talk to the others. Heck, I barely managed to leave the horrible truck.

Is it wrong to have frozen up? I don't think so. Not when you've heard the voice of your dead sister. Daughter of Zeus, she understood my situation. She treated me like her little sister. I never minded.

I minded when she refused to let me fight in the battle of Half-Blood Hill. I minded when I had to watch her die.

So hearing her voice kind of really brings that grief crashing back down on you and makes you feel like you're drowning. Or being melted over a flame. Whatever scares you more.

I kinda really wanted to punch Percy when he tossed me over his shoulder like a bag, but I really think I lost control of my limbs. I don't think I could even blink. I didn't mind though. Percy kept trying to talk to me in my head. He kept asking me what was bothering me.

*Just put me down dummy.*

He did.

So I forced my limbs of lead to move. I walked like they did. But I let Percy do that leading. I guess I was off in my own world where my body isn't required. Just my mind.

* * *

We passed the Monte Carlo and the MGM. We passed pyramids, a pirate ship, and the Statue of Liberty, which was a pretty small replica, but still made me homesick.

I wasn't sure what we were looking for. Maybe just a place to get out of the heat for a few minutes, find a sandwich and a glass of lemonade, make a new plan for getting west.

We must have taken a wrong turn, because we found ourselves at a dead end, standing in front of the Lotus Hotel and Casino.

The entrance was a huge neon flower, the petals lighting up and blinking. No one was going in or out, but the glittering chrome doors were open, spilling out air-conditioning that smelled like flowers—lotus blossom, maybe. I'd never smelled one, so I wasn't sure.

The doorman smiled at us. "Hey, kids. You look tired. You want to come in and sit down?"

I'd learned to be suspicious, the last week or so. I figured anybody might be a monster or a god. You just couldn't tell. But this guy was normal. One look at him, and I could see. Besides, I was so relieved to hear somebody who sounded sympathetic that I nodded and said we'd love to come in.

Inside, we took one look around, and Grover said, "Whoa."

The whole lobby was a giant game room.

And I'm not talking about cheesy old Pac-Man games or slot machines. There was an indoor waterslide snaking around the glass elevator, which went straight up at least forty floors. There was a climbing wall on the side of one building, and an indoor bungee-jumping bridge. There were virtual-reality suits with working laser guns. And hundreds of video games, each one the size of a widescreen TV. Basically, you name it, this place had it_. _There were a few other kids playing, but not that many. No waiting for any of the games. There were waitresses and snack bars all around, serving every kind of food you can imagine.

"Hey!" a bellhop said. At least I guessed he was a bellhop. He wore a white-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt with lotus designs, shorts, and flip-flops. "Welcome to the Lotus Casino. Here's your room key."

I stammered, "Um, but..."

"No, no," he said, laughing. "The bill's taken care of. No extra charges, no tips. Just go on up to the top floor, room 4001. If you need anything, like extra bubbles for the hot tub, or skeet targets for the shooting range, or whatever, just call the front desk. Here are your Lotus Cash cards. They work in the restaurants and on all the games and rides."

He handed us each a green plastic credit card.

I knew there must be some mistake. Obviously he thought we were some millionaire's kids. But I took the card and said, "How much is on here?"

His eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when does it run out of cash?"

He laughed. "Oh, you're making a joke. Hey, that's cool. Enjoy your stay."

We took the elevator upstairs and checked out our room. It was a suite with three separate bedrooms and a bar stocked with candy, sodas, and chips. A hotline to room service. Fluffy towels and water beds with feather pillows. A big-screen television with satellite and high-speed Internet. The balcony had its own hot tub, and sure enough, there was a skeet-shooting machine and a shotgun, so you could launch clay pigeons right out over the Las Vegas skyline and plug them with your gun. I didn't see how that could be legal, but I thought it was pretty cool. The view over the Strip and the desert was amazing, though I doubted we'd ever find time to look at the view with a room like this.

"Oh, goodness," Annabeth said. "This place is ..."

"Sweet," Grover said. "Absolutely sweet."

There were clothes in the closet, and they fit me. I frowned, thinking that this was a little strange. I threw Ares's backpack in the trash can. Wouldn't need that anymore. When we left, I could just charge a new one at the hotel store.

I took a shower, which felt awesome after a week of grimy travel. I changed clothes, ate a bag of chips, drank three Cokes, and came out feeling better than I had in a long time. In the back of my mind, some small problem kept nagging me. I'd had a dream or something ... I needed to talk to my friends. But I was sure it could wait.

I came out of the bedroom and found that Annabeth and Grover had also showered and changed clothes. Mari was in a new attire as well, but she still had that spacey look in her eyes as she sat on the couch. Grover was eating potato chips to his heart's content, while Annabeth cranked up the National Geographic Channel.

"All those stations," I told her, "and you turn on National Geographic. Are you insane?"

"It's interesting."

"I feel good," Grover said. "I love this place."

Without his even realizing it, the wings sprouted out of his shoes and lifted him a foot off the ground, then back down again.

"So what now?" Annabeth asked. "Sleep?"

Grover and I looked at each other and grinned. We both held up our green plastic Lotus Cash cards.

"Play time," I said.

I couldn't remember the last time I had so much fun. I came from a relatively poor family. Our idea of a splurge was eating out at Burger King and renting a video. A five-star Vegas hotel? Forget it.

I bungee-jumped the lobby five or six times, did the waterslide, snowboarded the artificial ski slope, and played virtual-reality laser tag and FBI sharpshooter. I saw Grover a few times, going from game to game. He really liked the reverse hunter thing—where the deer go out and shoot the rednecks.

I saw Annabeth playing trivia games and other brainiac stuff. They had this huge 3-D Sim game where you build your own city, and you could actually see the holographic buildings rise on the display board. I didn't think much of it, but Annabeth loved it.

* * *

I guess I was in zombie mode. I walked around the game area, not really looking at anything, when I bumped into someone and we fell to the floor. I looked across from me to see a little boy with silky black hair and olive toned skin.

Some cards were strewn around him and he was fumbling around trying to collect them all. I got on my knees and started collecting the rest of the cards before handing them back to the kid who I ran into.

"Thanks. Sorry for running into you," the boy said. I shook my head and stood before pulling him up.

"My fault. I was kind of spaced out. I'm Marisol but everyone calls me Mari," I said as we began walking somewhere. I wasn't sure, I was just following shorty's lead because he probably knew where he was going.

"I'm Nico. I'm ten, and you are?" he asked as he organized his cards.

"Twelve. I'm here with my big brother Percy, well he's my twin, and―"

"You have a _twin brother_?" he asked in amazement as he gawked at me.

"Yeah. Um, we're here with our friends Annabeth and Grover too. Who are you here with?" I asked awkwardly. He was still staring at me.

"Oh," he said as he stopped gawking. "I'm here with my big sister Bianca. She's twelve too. She's really pretty and so are you," he said with a grin as he turned to face me again.

So, he may be ten, but I felt my cheeks heat up anyway. Everytime somebody said I was pretty, they meant it in the _you're such a cute little girl_ way. Not the _you're actually really pretty _way. I'm not used to it, cut me some slack people!

So _anywayyy_, Nico led me over to a fountain that shot water out with lights everywhere that made the water glow different colors. I liked it and I saw he led me to a girl with the same hair and skin tone that he had. His sister.

"Nico!" she yelped as she bounced up. "_Where_ have you been! I sent you to get the food a long time ago!"

Nico grinned sheepishly and shrugger. "I may have forgotten. But I found her!" Nico cheered as he gestured to me. I felt myself tense. _Found her_? _Found her?_ Was he _looking _for me?

"Who is she?" Bianca asked as she looked at me. Okay, so maybe they weren't looking for me. Thank the gods.

"Uh hi I'm uh . . ." I was so tensed up I may have forgotten my own name. I don't think I was out of the woods yet.

"She's Marisol! She's twelve too! Come on, I'll show you how to play mythomagic," Nico said excitedly as he took my hand and led me away.

* * *

I'm not sure when I first realized something was wrong.

Probably, it was when I noticed the guy standing next to me at VR sharpshooters. He was about thirteen, I guess, but his clothes were weird. I thought he was some Elvis impersonator's son. He wore bell-bottom jeans and a red T-shirt with black piping, and his hair was permed and gelled like a New Jersey girl's on homecoming night.

We played a game of sharpshooters together and he said, "Groovy, man. Been here two weeks, and the games keep getting better and better."

_Groovy?_

Later, while we were talking, I said something was "sick," and he looked at me kind of startled, as if he'd never heard the word used that way before.

He said his name was Darrin, but as soon as I started asking him questions he got bored with me and started to go back to the computer screen.

I said, "Hey, Darrin?"

"What?"

"What year is it?"

He frowned at me. "In the game?"

"No. In real life."

He had to think about it. "1977."

"No," I said, getting a little scared. "Really."

"Hey, man. Bad vibes. I got a game happening."

After that he totally ignored me.

I started talking to people, and I found it wasn't easy. They were glued to the TV screen, or the video game, or their food, or whatever. I found a guy who told me it was 1985. Another guy told me it was 1993. They all claimed they hadn't been in here very long, a few days, a few weeks at most. They didn't really know and they didn't care.

Then it occurred to me: how long had I been here? It seemed like only a couple of hours, but was it?

I tried to remember why we were here. We were going to Los Angeles. We were supposed to find the entrance to the Underworld. My mother ... for a scary second, I had trouble remembering her name. Sally. Sally Jackson. I had to find her. I had to stop Hades from causing World War III.

I found Annabeth still building her city.

"Come on," I told her. "We've got to get out of here."

No response.

I shook her. "Annabeth?"

She looked up, annoyed. "What?

"We need to leave."

"Leave? What are you talking about? I've just got the towers—"

"This place is a trap."

She didn't respond until I shook her again. "What?"

"Listen. The Underworld. Our quest!"

"Oh, come on, Percy. Just a few more minutes."

"Annabeth, there are people here from 1977. Kids who have never aged. You check in, and you stay forever."

"So?" she asked. "Can you imagine a better place?"

I grabbed her wrist and yanked her away from the game.

"Hey!" She screamed and hit me, but nobody else even bothered looking at us. They were too busy.

I made her look directly in my eyes. I said, "Spiders. Large, hairy spiders."

That jarred her. Her vision cleared. "Oh my gods," she said. "How long have we—"

"I don't know, but we've got to find Grover."

We went searching, and found him still playing Virtual Deer Hunter.

"Grover!" we both shouted.

He said, "Die, human! Die, silly polluting nasty person!"

"Grover!"

He turned the plastic gun on me and started clicking, as if I were just another image from the screen.

I looked at Annabeth, and together we took Grover by the arms and dragged him away. His flying shoes sprang to life and started tugging his legs in the other direction as he shouted, "No! I just got to a new level! No!"

* * *

I was in the middle of an intense game of mythomagic when I heard Grover shouting _No! I just go to a new level! No!_

I turned to see Percy and Annabeth dragging Grover away from a game and suddenly I felt really dizzy as I heard Percy's thoughts. Stuff about . . . oh my gods. Kids who never age. Never get out of here.

I got up to leave and get to my brother when I heard Nico's voice.

"Where are you going Mari?" he asked innocently.

"I . . . I have to go," I stuttered out.

"What? Why?" he asked as his eyes filled with sadness.

"I . . . Percy . . . Nico I . . . " I felt my eyes water as I realized something. I couldn't take Nico or Bianca with me and the others. They'd be stuck here forever. I couldn't resist the urge to hug Nico so I tackled him in a hug and gripped him tight. He'd be stuck at ten forever. It'd be my fault. Another person I would leave to a horrible fate. "I'm sorry."

I kissed the top of his head in a sisterly way before getting up and running past Bianca. I said a hurried goodbye over my shoulder before running to catch up to my brother and friends.

* * *

The Lotus bellhop hurried up to us. "Well, now, are you ready for your platinum cards?"

"We're leaving," I told him. Mari popped up beside me and I felt my eyes widen as I realized I'd almost left without her. Oops.

"Such a shame," he said, and I got the feeling that he really meant it, that we'd be breaking his heart if we went. "We just added an entire new floor full of games for platinum-card members."

He held out the cards, and I wanted one. I knew that if I took one, I'd never leave. I'd stay here, happy forever, playing games forever, and soon I'd forget my mom, and my quest, and maybe even my own name. I'd be playing virtual rifleman with groovy Disco Darrin forever.

Grover reached for the card, but Annabeth yanked back his arm and said, "No, thanks."

We walked toward the door, and as we did, the smell of the food and the sounds of the games seemed to get more and more inviting. I thought about our room upstairs. We could just stay the night, sleep in a real bed for once...

Then we burst through the doors of the Lotus Casino and ran down the sidewalk. It felt like afternoon, about the same time of day we'd gone into the casino, but something was wrong. The weather had completely changed. It was stormy, with heat lightning flashing out in the desert.

Ares's backpack was slung over my shoulder, which was odd, because I was sure I had thrown it in the trash can in room 4001, but at the moment I had other problems to worry about.

I ran to the nearest newspaper stand and read the year first. Thank the gods, it was the same year it had been when we went in. Then I noticed the date: June twentieth.

* * *

We had been in the Lotus Casino for five days.

We had only one day left until the summer solstice. One day to complete our quest.

Two words.

Uh oh.

* * *

**Dude's, people, dudes. This is the last update for September 13th, 2012. **

**once more.**

**IT'S NIALL JAMES HORAN'S BIRTHDAY! HE'S NINETEEN! CONGRAT NIALL! LOVE YOU! WISH YOU ALL THE BEST!**

**People. Wish him a happy birthday. Or go away. He's amazing. Nineteen years of amazingness. Be jealous.**

**And every day he makes me smile. Him, Liam, Harry, Louis, and Zayn.**

**Oh hey! today in Algebra there was stuff about exponents and X being the factor that's used accordingly to the exponent or something and all I saw?**

**X-Factor.**

**All I thought?**

**1st) ONE DIRECTION was formed on X-Factor in UK.**

**2nd) HAPPY BIRTHDAY NIALL! I SHALL TWEET YOU ABOUT THIS LATER.**

**3rd) Gods I should have tweeted him this morning instead of this afternoon.**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU AMAZING ONE!**

* * *

So, what's up with Mari? Anyway, like I said, updates now equal few and far between. Sorry.

_**HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO NIALL JAMES HORAN! NINETEEN! I LOVE YOU!**_

XOXO

~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis

* * *

**I'm back again to upload some more. Sorry if it sucks and my uploads are even fewer and far in between because I'm freshmen my new highschool and it's fun because I'm woth friends but my schedule for FF and anything fun is like, burned to ashes. I'll update again after this 'mass' upload in maybe two weeks? Sooner? I just hope you all stick with me til then.**

**xoxo**

**~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis**

**oh and**

_**IT'S NIALL JAMES HORAN'S BIRTHDAY! WISH HIM A HAPPY BIRTHDAY ON TWITTER OR WHEREVER. LOVE YOU NIALL!**_

oh and if i get the chapter orders wrong or miss a chapter PLEASE tell me because i'm confused and tired and freshamn so I can use all the help I'd get.


	18. Chapter 17

Hey. I'm back for a bit. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me HOW MANY days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to everybody who reviews and has reviewed :)

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**We Shop For Water Beds**

* * *

It was Annabeth's idea.

She loaded us into the back of a Vegas taxi as if we actually had money, and told the driver, "Los Angeles, please."

The cabbie chewed his cigar and sized us up. "That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front."

"You accept casino debit cards?" Annabeth asked.

He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first."

Annabeth handed him her green Lotus Cash card. He looked at it skeptically.

"Swipe it," Annabeth invited.

He did.

His meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign. The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth. He looked back at us, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles... uh, Your Highness?"

"The Santa Monica Pier." Annabeth sat up a little straighter. I could tell she liked the "Your Highness" thing. "Get us there fast, and you can keep the change."

Maybe she shouldn't have told him that. The cab's speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert. On the road, we had plenty of time to talk. I told Annabeth and Grover about my latest dream, but the details got sketchier the more I tried to remember them. The Lotus Casino seemed to have short-circuited my memory.

I couldn't recall what the invisible servant's voice had sounded like, though I was sure it was somebody I knew. The servant had called the monster in the pit something other than "my lord" ... some special name or title...

"The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades."

"Maybe ..." I said, though neither sounded quite right."

"That throne room sounds like Hades's," Grover said. "That's the way it's usually described."

I shook my head. "Something's wrong. The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice from the pit ... I don't know. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."

Annabeth's eyes widened. Mari stiffended.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh ... nothing. I was just—No, it _has _to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong—"

"Like what?"

"I—I don't know," she said. "But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt."

I wasn't sure what was wrong with her. She looked pale. Mari gad gone into lockdown mode. Sure I wasn't too good at the twin-linky thing but I couldn't hear a single thought of hers or feel whatever she was feeling.

"But if I'd already retrieved the bolt," I said, "why would I be traveling to the Underworld?"

"To threaten Hades," Grover suggested. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your mom back."

I whistled. "You have evil thoughts for a goat."

"Why, thank you."

"But the thing in the pit said it was waiting for _two _items," I said. "If the master bolt is one, what's the other?"

Grover shook his head, clearly mystified.

Annabeth was looking at me as if she knew my next question, and was silently willing me not to ask it. Mari turned her attention to the empty dagger sheath at her waist.

"You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you?" I asked them. "I mean, if it isn't Hades?"

"Percy ... let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades ... No. It has to be Hades," Annabeth said shakily.

"It doesn't have to be, and I doubt it is. But I wish it was so I could give him a piece of my mind for everything he's ever done," I heard Mari mutter as she fumbled with the empty sheath.

* * *

This couldn't be happening. First I lose my dagger. Then I lose Nico and Bianca. Now I'm slowly losing my sanity as I think about everything. The knives, the symbol, the pit, the servant. Thalia, half-blood hill, Elizabeth, Lucas, and everybody I've lost.

Hades took all of them.

It was in the underworld that he set the Manticore on Elizabeth, Lucas, and Andrew. It was him that took the souls of Sammi, Kev, Aaron, and Sabi. I bet he's going to claim Nico and Bianca's souls one day if they ever get out of that wretchedly fun prison of a hotel.

He's taken everything from me. Even my mother.

If he took Percy, I'd kill him. I'd kill Hades, god of the underworld, because I know I'd have enough drive, and nothing to lose.

So I made a third vow.

The first one being that I'd retrieve the bolt. The second being that I'd help get my mother back. The third, I would try and get Nico and Bianca Di Angelo out of that casino one day. Even If I wasn't twelve anymore, even if I was twenty, or two hundred. Because I had to leave that little boy without finishing our game, and he deserved to actually live with his sister. Those two didn't deserve to be suspended in time.

I sat in the taxi, glaring at the speedometer. I swear I was going to lose my inexistent lunch after we got out of this yellow box of evil.

* * *

Wasteland rolled by. We passed a sign that said CALI FORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES.

I got the feeling I was missing one simple, critical piece of information. It was like when I stared at a common word I should know, but I couldn't make sense of it because one or two letters were floating around. The more I thought about my quest, the more I was sure that confronting Hades wasn't the real answer. There was something else going on, something even more dangerous.

The problem was: we were hurtling toward the Underworld at ninety-five miles an hour, betting that Hades had the master bolt. If we got there and found out we were wrong, we wouldn't have time to correct ourselves. The solstice deadline would pass and war would begin.

"The answer is in the Underworld," Annabeth assured me. "You saw spirits of the dead, Percy. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing."

She tried to boost our morale by suggesting clever strategies for getting into the Land of the Dead, but my heart wasn't in it. There were just too many unknown factors. It was like cramming for a test without knowing the subject. And believe me, I'd done _that _enough times.

The cab sped west. Every gust of wind through Death Valley sounded like a spirit of the dead. Every time the brakes hissed on an eighteen-wheeler, it reminded me of Echidna's reptilian voice.

At sunset, the taxi dropped us at the beach in Santa Monica. It looked exactly the way L.A. beaches do in the movies, only it smelled worse.

There were carnival rides lining the Pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless guys sleeping in the sand dunes, and surfer dudes waiting for the perfect wave.

Grover, Annabeth, Mari, and I walked down to the edge of the surf.

"What now?" Annabeth asked.

The Pacific was turning gold in the setting sun. I thought about how long it had been since I'd stood on the beach at Montauk, on the opposite side of the country, looking out at a different sea.

How could there be a god who could control all that? What did my science teacher used to say—two-thirds of the earth's surface was covered in water? How could I be the son of someone that powerful?

I stepped into the surf. Mari hesitated for a second before she followed my lead.

"Percy? Mari?" Annabeth said. "What are you two doing?"

I kept walking, up to my waist, then my chest. My sister followed, one hand locked with mine to avoid separation.

Annabeth called after us, "You know how polluted that water is? There're all kinds of toxic—"

That's when my head went under. I held my breath at first. It's difficult to intentionally inhale water. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I gasped. Sure enough, I could breathe normally.

My sister smiled at me and began to speak.

*You get used to it. I remember once I fell into the water and I was maybe four. I started panicking and screaming and this Naiad just told me to calm down and breath. When I did I figured every demigod could breathe underwater. I found out I was wrong maybe two years later.*

*Sounds scary.*

*You have no idea.*

We walked down into the shoals. I shouldn't have been able to see through the murk, but somehow I could tell where everything was. I could sense the rolling texture of the bottom. I could make out sand-dollar colonies dotting the sandbars. I could even see the currents, warm and cold streams swirling together. I'm pretty sure Mari could too. After all, we are twins of the sea.

I felt something rub against my leg. I looked down and almost shot out of the water like a ballistic missile. Mari gave a small shriek. So she had one two. Sliding along beside me was a five-foot-long mako shark.

But the thing wasn't attacking. It was nuzzling me. Heeling like a dog.

Tentatively, I touched its dorsal fin. It bucked a little, as if inviting me to hold tighter. I grabbed the fin with both hands. It took off, pulling me along. The shark carried me down into the darkness. It deposited me at the edge of the ocean proper, where the sand bank dropped off into a huge chasm. It was like standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon at midnight, not being able to see much, but knowing the void was right there.

* * *

I screamed as I saw the mako shark. Wouldn't you? Because really, normal people _don't _get used to sharks acting like flackin dogs!

I saw Percy grab the dorsal fin of his and it pulled him away so I followed his example and soon we were at the underwater grand canyon. At least, that's what it felt like.

* * *

The surface shimmered maybe a hundred and fifty feet above. I knew I should've been crushed by the pressure. Then again, I shouldn't have been able to breathe. I wondered if there was a limit to how deep I could go, if I could sink straight to the bottom of the Pacific.

Then I saw something glimmering in the darkness below, growing bigger and brighter as it rose toward me. A woman's voice, like my mother's, called: "Percy and Marisol Jackson."

As she got closer, her shape became clearer. She had flowing black hair, a dress made of green silk. Light flickered around her, and her eyes were so distractingly beautiful I hardly noticed the stallion-sized sea horse she was riding.

She dismounted. The sea horse and the mako sharks whisked off and started playing something that looked like tag.

The underwater lady smiled at me and my sister. "You've come far children. Well done."

I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I bowed. "You're the woman who spoke to us in the Mississippi River."

"You look familiar. Do I know you?" Mari asked as she tilted her head to the side.

"Yes, children. I am a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. It was not easy to appear so far upriver, but the naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honor Lord Poseidon, though they do not serve in his court."

"And ... you serve in Poseidon's court?"

She nodded. "It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. Many centuries since twins of the Sea God have come to light. We have watched you two with great interest."

Suddenly I remembered faces in the waves off Montauk Beach when I was a little boy, reflections of smiling women. Like so many of the weird things in my life, I'd never given it much thought before.

"That's why the Naiads never leave me alone when I go swimming!" Mari said as she looked around. Nereid nodded.

"If my father is so interested in us," I said, "why isn't he here? Why doesn't he speak to us?"

A cold current rose out of the depths.

"Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly," the Nereid told me. "He stands at the brink of an unwanted war. He has much to occupy his time. Besides, he is forbidden to help you directly. The gods may not show such favoritism."

"Even to their own children?"

"Especially to them. The gods can work by indirect influence only. That is why I give you a warning, and a gift." She held out her hand. Four white pearls flashed in her palm. "I know you journey to Hades's realm," she said. "Few mortals have ever done this and survived: Orpheus, who had great music skill; Hercules, who had great strength; Houdini, who could escape even the depths of Tartarus. Do you have these talents?"

"Urn ... no, ma'am."

"Not really, no."

"Ah, but you have something else, children. You have gifts you have only begun to know. The oracles have foretold a great and terrible future for you Percy, should you survive to man hood. Poseidon would not have you, or your sister, die before your time. Therefore take these, and when you are in need, smash a pearl at your feet."

"What will happen?"

"That," she said, "depends on the need. But remember: what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea."

"What about the warning?"

Her eyes flickered with green light. "Go with what your heart tells you, or you will lose all. Hades feeds on doubt and hopelessness. He will trick you if he can, make you mistrust your own judgment. Once you are in his realm, he will never willingly let you leave. Keep faith. Good luck, Percy and Marisol Jackson."

She summoned her sea horse and rode toward the void.

"Wait!" I called. "At the river, you said not to trust the gifts. What gifts?"

"Good-bye, young hero," she called back, her voice fading into the depths. "You must listen to your heart." She became a speck of glowing green, and then she was gone.

I wanted to follow her down into the darkness. I wanted to see the court of Poseidon. But I looked up at the sunset darkening on the surface. My friends were waiting. We had so little time...

"I think we should go. That great prophecy thing, yeah that's important. Come on," Mari said before she began rising toward the surface.

I kicked upward toward the shore.

When we reached the beach, our clothes dried instantly. I told Grover and Annabeth what had happened, and showed them the pearls.

Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price."

"They were free."

"No." She shook her head. "'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait."

On that happy thought, we turned our backs on the sea.

With some spare change from Ares's backpack, we took the bus into West Hollywood. I showed the driver the Underworld address slip I'd taken from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios.

"You remind me of somebody I saw on TV," he told me. "You a child actor or something?"

"Uh ... I'm a stunt double ... for a lot of child actors."

"Oh! That explains it."

We thanked him and got off quickly at the next stop.

We wandered for miles on foot, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was. It didn't appear in the phone book.

Twice, we ducked into alleys to avoid cop cars.

I froze in front of an appliance-store window because a television was playing an interview with somebody who looked very familiar—my stepdad, Smelly Gabe. He was talking to Barbara Walters—I mean, as if he were some kind of huge celebrity. She was interviewing him in our apartment, in the middle of a poker game, and there was a young blond lady sitting next to him, patting his hand.

A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife ... my Camaro ... I—I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it."

"There you have it, America." Barbara Walters turned to the camera. "A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver."

The screen cut to a grainy shot of me, Mari, Annabeth, and Grover standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares.

"Who are the other children in this photo?" Barbara Walters asked dramatically. "Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America."

"Well it's good to know that jerk is such a liar. I swear when I get my hands on that―"

"C'mon," Grover told Mari and me. He hauled us away before we could punch a hole in the appliance-store window. Knowing my sister, she'd probably tear the place to shreds.

* * *

So maybe I shouldn't have let that freakish monster of a man bother me, when I wasn't even involved with this, but he said he missed our mom and yet there he is with some blonde bimbo. He's smeared Percy on national television. He said he missed his _car_. I wanted to kill him. He really crossed the line. Nobody, and I mean nobody, puts anything before a Jackson. Not Percy Jackson, nor Sally Jackson.

I'm not a Jackson, I'm a no-name. I'm not on that list. I'm not arrogant, I don't put myself before everybody else. So I put my family before everybody else. Ta-daaa!

Anyway, I am telling you this right now:

I HATE LOS ANGELES! It's creepy.

New York is chaotic but at least you know where everything is.

* * *

It got dark, and hungry-looking characters started coming out on the streets to play. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a New Yorker. I don't scare easy. But L.A. had a totally different feel from New York. Back home, everything seemed close. It didn't matter how big the city was, you could get anywhere without getting lost. The street pattern and the subway made sense. There was a system to how things worked. A kid could be safe as long as he wasn't stupid.

L.A. wasn't like that. It was spread out, chaotic, hard to move around. It reminded me of Ares. It wasn't enough for L.A. to be big; it had to prove it was big by being loud and strange and difficult to navigate, too. I didn't know how we were ever going to find the entrance to the Underworld by tomorrow, the summer solstice.

We walked past gang bangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at us like they were trying to figure if we were worth the trouble of mugging. As we hurried passed the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you."

Like an idiot, I stopped.

Before I knew it, we were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled us. Six of them in all—white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. Like the kids at Yancy Academy: rich brats playing at being bad boys.

Instinctively, I uncapped Riptide. My sister pulled out Seaside.

When the swords appeared out of nowhere, the kids backed off, but their leader was either really stupid or really brave, because he kept coming at me with a switchblade.

I made the mistake of swinging.

Mari pointed the blade at the others.

The kid yelped. But he must've been one hundred percent mortal, because the blade passed harmlessly right through his chest. He looked down. "What the ..."

I figured I had about three seconds before his shock turned to anger. "Run!" I screamed at Mari, Annabeth, and Grover.

We pushed two kids out of the way and raced down the street, not knowing where we were going. We turned a sharp corner.

"There!" Annabeth shouted.

Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon. The sign above the door said something like CRSTUY'S WATRE BDE ALPACE.

"Crusty's Water Bed Palace?" Grover translated. It didn't sound like a place I'd ever go except in an emergency, but this definitely qualified. We burst through the doors, ran behind a water bed, and ducked. A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside.

"I think we lost them," Grover panted.

A voice behind us boomed, "Lost who?"

We all jumped.

Standing behind us was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was at least seven feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had gray, leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold, reptilian smile. He moved toward us slowly, but I got the feeling he could move fast if he needed to.

His suit might've come from the Lotus Casino. It belonged back in the seventies, big-time. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. The silver chains around his neck—I couldn't even count them.

"I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile.

I resisted the urge to say, _Yes, you are._

My sister didn't.

"Yes, yes you are," she said as she took a half-step behind me.

"Sorry to barge in," I told him. "We were just, um, browsing."

"You mean hiding from those no-good kids," he grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?"

I was about to say _No, thanks, _when he put a huge paw on my shoulder and steered me deeper into the showroom.

There was every kind of water bed you could imagine: different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen-size, king-size, emperor-of-the-universe-size.

"This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil-flavored Jell-O.

"Million-hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, any-way.

"Um," I said, "I don't think ..."

"Million-hand massage!" Grover cried, and dove in. "Oh, you guys! This is cool."

"Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost."

"Almost what?" I asked.

He looked at Mari, who had gone over and sat on a water bed with shimmering lights everywhere. Then he turned to Annabeth. "Do me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit."

Annabeth said, "But what—"

He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and led her over to the Safari Deluxe model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned comforter. When Annabeth didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed her.

"Hey!" she protested.

* * *

I couldn't resist a water bed. I mean, they're so cool and in my element. Then Annabeth was pushed and I made to jump off the bed.

Sadly, I was a split second too late.

* * *

Crusty snapped his fingers. _"Ergo!"_

Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Annabeth, holding her to the mattress.

Mari sprung up but more ropes came and slammed her onto the bed.

Grover tried to get up, but ropes sprang from his black-satin bed, too, and lashed him down.

"N-not c-c-cool!" he yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "N-not c-cool a-at all!"

The giant looked at Annabeth, then turned toward me and grinned. "Almost, darn it."

I tried to step away, but his hand shot out and clamped around the back of my neck. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec."

"Let my friends go."

"Oh, sure I will. But I got to make them fit, first."

"What do you mean?"

"All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit."

Mari and Annabeth and Grover kept struggling.

"Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. _"Ergo!"_

A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around Mari, Grover, and Annabeth's ankles, then around their armpits. The ropes started tightening, pulling my sister friends from both ends.

"Don't worry," Crusty told me, "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?"

"Percy!" Grover yelled.

My mind was racing. I knew I couldn't take on this giant water-bed salesman alone. He would snap my neck before I ever got my sword out. My body began to ache and I silently cursed the twin link we had on right now.

"Your real name's not Crusty, is it?" I asked.

"Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted.

"The Stretcher," I said. I remembered the story: the giant who'd tried to kill Theseus with excess hospitality on his way to Athens.

"Yeah," the salesman said. "But who can pronounce _Procrustes? _Bad for business. Now 'Crusty,' anybody can say that."

"You're right. It's got a good ring to it."

His eyes lit up. "You think so?"

"Oh, absolutely," I said. "And the workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!"

He grinned hugely, but his fingers didn't loosen on my neck. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?"

"Not too many."

"That's right!"

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "What are you doing?"

"Hello?! Being stretched to death here! Aren't you supposed to go all twin brother mode and get me the heck outta here?" Mari screamed.

"Don't mind them," I told Procrustes. "They're impossible."

The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting."

"What do you do if they're longer than six feet?"

"Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix."

He let go of my neck, but before I could react, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double-bladed brass axe.

He said, "I just center the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end."

"Ah," I said, swallowing hard. "Sensible."

"I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!"

The ropes were really stretching my friends now. Annabeth was turning pale. Grover made gurgling sounds, like a strangled goose. Mari simply tried reaching toward her pockets but I could feel the pain exploding with my body.

* * *

Being roped to a bed and stretched _is not _fun. It's painful. I could feel my spine cracking like it did if you stretched in the morning. My ankles took on rope burn. I swore repeatedly in my head as I tried getting my hand into my pocket so I could get out my sword and cut myself free.

Why did I have to be so short? I mean yeah I'm not short but right now I sure feel like it. I don't want to be stretched though! I swear when I get outta here that big bag of crusty salesman is sooo dead.

* * *

"So, Crusty ..." I said, trying to keep my voice light. I glanced at the sales tag on the valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?"

"Absolutely. Try it out."

"Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?"

"Guaranteed."

"No way."

"Way."

"Show me."

He sat down eagerly on the bed, patted the mattress. "No waves. See?"

I snapped my fingers. _"Ergo."_

Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress.

"Hey!" he yelled.

"Center him just right," I said.

The ropes readjusted themselves at my command. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet stuck out the bottom.

"No!" he said. "Wait! This is just a demo."

I uncapped Riptide. "A few simple adjustments ..."

I had no qualms about what I was about to do. If Crusty were human, I couldn't hurt him anyway. If he was a monster, he deserved to turn into dust for a while.

"You drive a hard bargain," he told me. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models.'"

"I think I'll start with the top." I raised my sword.

"No money down! No interest for six months!"

I swung the sword. Crusty stopped making offers.

I cut the ropes on the other beds. Annabeth and Grover got to their feet, groaning and wincing and cursing me a lot. Mari simply took my sword and whacked me with the flat side of the blade a few times. Like I wasn't already hurting enough from her stretching.

"You look taller," I said.

"Very funny," Annabeth said. "Be faster next time."

* * *

I rolled my shoulders a bit and shook out my feet, trying to work off the pain in my ankles and underarms.

If I ever have to work out again, I will _never again_ stretch first.

I took my brother's sword and whacked him a bit before handing it back and grumbling a few curses. He is never living this down. How dare he call _me _impossible?!

* * *

I looked at the bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk. There was an advertisement for Hermes Delivery Service, and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters—"The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!" Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. "We are always looking for new talent!" DOA's address was right underneath with a map.

"Come on," I told my friends.

"Give us a minute," Grover complained. "We were almost stretched to death.'"

"Then you're ready for the Underworld," I said. "It's only a block from here."

* * *

**I'm back because I have two chapters to upload and this book is almost done so weeeee! Next chapter asap nd I'm workin on the ones after.**

**~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis**

oh and if i get the chapter orders wrong or miss a chapter PLEASE tell me because i'm confused and tired and freshamn so I can use all the help I'd get.


	19. Chapter 18

Hey. I'm back for a bit. I still want to complete all seven books before october second which gives me HOW MANY days to redo about 120 chapters. Think I can do it? I'll try my very hardest if I get some more encouraging reeeviiewwws.

Dedicated to everybody who reviews and has reviewed :)

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**Annabeth Does Obedience School**

* * *

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece. I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative."

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

I took the pearls out of my pocket, the four milky spheres the Nereid had given me in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong.

Annabeth put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

Mari smiled as me as she wrapped an arm around me. "You put up with me, I'll stand by you. After all, we _are_ twins."

I looked at the three of them, and felt really grateful. Only a few minutes before, I'd almost gotten them stretched to death on deluxe water beds, and now they were trying to be brave for my sake, trying to make me feel better.

I slipped the pearls back in my pocket. "Let's whoop some Underworld butt.

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

Music played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking ... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

I read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language.

"Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," I said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H_-A-_R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: _Mr. _Charon."

"Mr. Charon," I said.

"Well done." He sat back. "I _hate _being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

His question caught in my stomach like a fastball. I looked at Annabeth for support.

"We want to go the Underworld," she said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" she asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.' " He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

I nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um ... drowned ... in the bathtub."

"All four of you?" Charon asked. We nodded.

"Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed.

_"_I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children ... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." I set four golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash I'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now ..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in ..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins. We were so close. Then Charon looked at me. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through my chest.

"Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," I said. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," I insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat. Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." I tried to sound braver than I felt.

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh ... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," I said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.

* * *

Okay, am I the only one who thinks this is _really _fun to watch? I'd never seen Charon look so … whipped. I bet if Percy told him to roll over, and enough coins were on the counter, Charon wouldn't argue. It's really pathetic what money can do to someone. Or something. Whatever Charon is.

* * *

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

I stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you four and be off."

He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's ... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," I said.

"Ha."

I got a sudden dizzy feeling. We weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

I blinked hard. When I opened my eyes, Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," I managed.

I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed car nations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges. Mari clutched my hand and looked at the river warily.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so ..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison. Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me ... they were dead.

Annabeth grabbed hold of my hand.

Under normal circumstances, this would've embarrassed me, but I understood how she felt. She wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat. I found myself muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one I had come to confront.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

I'm not sure what I was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" I asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"Harsh," I said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." I did remember now. We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course.

He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff.

I said, "What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized I was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds would be licking her lips with anticipation.

"But if he's a preacher," I said, "and he believes in a different hell..."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, but I still couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Then, about fifty feet in front of us, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

I hadn't seen it before because it was half transparent, like the dead. Until it moved, it blended with whatever was behind it. Only its eyes and teeth looked solid. And it was staring straight at me.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, mostly invisible, and had three heads.

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," I muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think ..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," I said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to me. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster. Mari looked toward one of the gates, at the end of the line.

"I have to go do something," she mumbled as she let my hand go. "I'll meet you at the palace of Hades."

Before I could protest, she disappeared in the crowd of the dead.

The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" I asked Grover.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

I took the big stick out of my backpack—a bedpost I'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. I held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus—Alpo commercials, cute little pup pies, fire hydrants. I tried to smile, like I wasn't about to die.

"Hey, Big Fella," I called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

_"GROWWWLLLL!"_

"Good boy," I said weakly.

I waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on me, completely ignoring the spirits. I had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Fetch!" I threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it go _ker-sploosh_ in the River Styx.

* * *

I weaved through ghosts until I found the gate that lead to the one place I'd always needed to visit.

Elysium.

Sneaking past the guard wasn't hard when you've slashed him through with your sword and forced his soul to turn to mist. I had three seconds before he was back in his form and sounding alarms if he caught me.

I ran into the small bit of land and looked around at the little homes and the party going on just about everywhere. There weren't many heroes in Elysium, but there was somewhere between one and two hundred.

I didn't have the time to look at every soul.

Then the golden locket around my neck began to heat up. I began walking forward until the locket began to cool down.

I backtracked a bit before going west, the locket got hotter. After making many turns and playing the GPS-Locket version of hot and cold, I finally found what I was looking for.

Two ghosts.

A teenage boy.

A teenage girl.

"Liz," I breathed out as I stared at the pair. "Luca."

The pair turned to me, and with a sound like wind in a tunnel, they were by my side. They stared at me disbelievingly before Liz carefully reached out and touched my cheek. I felt nothing but a brush of arctic air. Liz's hand turned to mist as it came in contact with my skin and she pulled back, her hand returning to its shape.

She opened her mouth and spoke. I only heard a chattering sound.

Tears sprung to my eyes and I tried to focus and make out what she was saying. I couldn't hear anything but the chattering.

"I'm sorry, I… I cant hear you," I said helplessly as a few tears slid down my cheeks. I looked at Luca and he gave me a sad smile before he patted my head. My bangs fluttered a bit as the soft gust of cold air stirred them about.

Liz got a cross look on her face and I could tell she was upset. Determination spread across her face and she tried again.

"Mari, we've missed you," she said in a slightly hoarse tone. I felt my eyes widen and my heart skipped a beat. My head began to throb and the world began to spin. Her voice, I hadn't hear it in six years.

"How have you been squirt?" I heard Luca ask. I looked at him and I began bawling like a little kid.

"I lost you dagger. I… i… please tell me you don't hate me!" I cried as I looked at them both. They looked stunned.

"You … lost my dagger? How?" Luca asked as he tried brushing away some of my tears. The cold had started to hurt but I didn't care. He was Luca, she was Liz, I'd give and take anything to be with them, even if only for a second.

"I… Echidna… she… and Percy… I'm so sorry!" I sobbed. My throat tightened and my head hurt more.

"Whoa there Mari, calm down. Tell us the whole story," Liz cooed as she brushed away my tears. Her touch had gotten warmer, and I figured it must be because he had been an Apollo kid.

It took maybe five minutes to sum it all up, but soon they knew about Percy and the quest. They also knew about my mom, and how I had to leave Nico and Bianca at the Lotus Casino.

"That's a lot for a twelve year old," Luca whispered to me. "I'm proud of you."

I looked at him, totally bewildered.

"W-what? I lost your dagger! I left Nico at that hotel! I left my brother and friends to Cerberus! I-I made the symb―"

"Hush now sweetie," Liz whispered urgently. Yes, I had told her about bunker elven and the knives. "You couldn't bring a mortal with you and then just leave him to the real world. I know you care about your brother, I'm proud of you for taking this quest. I never would have, and I was older than you are now! Get back to your brother and friends, go get that bolt, and save the world. I know you. You're stubborn enough to stick with the people you love, and smart enough to find that bolt and return it to Zeus. Go on squirt, we'll be watching you as best we can."

"And Mari," Luca said as I turned to him. "Don't worry about the dagger. It'll never truly be lost. Now go, I think your brother needs you."

He was right. I could hear Cerberus roar.

* * *

Cerberus glared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice_. _After that... well ... he's hungry."

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

Uh-oh, I thought.

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were. All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated. "Sit!" Annabeth called again. I was sure that any moment she would become the world's largest Milk bone dog biscuit.

But instead, Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

Annabeth said, "Good boy!"

She threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snap ping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" Annabeth ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at her. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it. She turned toward us. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

I said, "But—"

"Now.'" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

Grover and I inched forward warily. Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

"What about you?" I asked Annabeth as we passed her.

"I know what I'm doing, Percy," she muttered. "At least, I'm pretty sure... ."

* * *

I ran out of Elysium after one last watery goodbye and joined my brother breathlessly as he walked underneath Cerberus.

I wasn't too surprised to know Annabeth had tamed the big dog.

* * *

Grover and I walked between the monster's legs as Mari rushed forward and joined us, waving at the huge dog above.

Please, Annabeth, I prayed. Don't tell him to sit again.

We made it through. Cerberus wasn't any less scary-looking from the back.

Annabeth said, "Good dog!"

She held up the tattered red ball, and probably came to the same conclusion I did—if she rewarded Cerberus, there'd be nothing left for another trick. She threw the ball anyway. The monster's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, Annabeth walked briskly under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"How did you do that?" I asked her, amazed.

"Obedience school," she said breathlessly, and I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes.

"When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman... ."

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at my shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth stopped.

She turned to face the dog, which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain. The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried about her.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

The monster whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I—I promise." Annabeth turned to us. "Let's go."

Grover, Mari, and I pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld. A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"

"No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

I wasn't sure about that. I thought maybe Annabeth and I had both had the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while. I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. I pretended not to see Annabeth wipe a tear from her cheek as she listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance, longing for his new friend.

* * *

**I'm back because I have two chapters to upload and this book is almost done so weeeee! Next chapter asap nd I'm workin on the ones after.**

**~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis**

oh and if i get the chapter orders wrong or miss a chapter PLEASE tell me because i'm confused and tired and freshamn so I can use all the help I'd get.


	20. Chapter 19

Hey. I'm back for a bit. I STILL wanna get the books done by oct 2 but thats in like a week and a half so it seems pretty impossible unless I do a book a day and upload nd stuff. I can't, I'm freshman. I'm in highschool doing work. Being stuck in boring as flack reality. 

I STILL WANNA 

LIVE WHILE WE'RE YOUNG!

So I'll do my writing whenever I can.

Dedicated to everybody who reviews and has reviewed :)

I**f** y**o**u **s**e**e** w**r**i**t**i**n**g like that it means it's being seen by both siblings.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**We Find out the Truth, Sort of**

* * *

Imagine the largest concert crowd you've ever seen, a football field packed with a million fans.

Now imagine a field a million times that big, packed with people, and imagine the electricity has gone out, and there is no noise, no light, no beach ball bouncing around over the crowd. Something tragic has happened backstage. Whispering masses of people are just milling around in the shadows, waiting for a concert that will never start.

If you can picture that, you have a pretty good idea what the Fields of Asphodel looked like. The black grass had been trampled by eons of dead feet. A warm, moist wind blew like the breath of a swamp. Black trees—Grover told me they were poplars—grew in clumps here and there.

* * *

The cavern ceiling was so high above us it might've been a bank of storm clouds, except for the stalactites, which glowed faint gray and looked wickedly pointed. I tried not to imagine they'd fall on us at any moment, but dotted around the fields were several that had fallen and impaled themselves in the black grass. I guess the dead didn't have to worry about little hazards like being speared by stalactites the size of booster rockets.

* * *

Annabeth, Grover, Mari, and I tried to blend into the crowd, keeping an eye out for security ghouls. I couldn't help looking for familiar faces among the spirits of Asphodel, but the dead are hard to look at. Their faces shimmer. They all look slightly angry or confused. They will come up to you and speak, but their voices sound like chatter, like bats twittering. Once they realize you can't understand them, they frown and move away.

The dead aren't scary. They're just sad.

We crept along, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates toward a black-tented pavilion with a banner that read:

_J**U**D**G**M**E**N**T**S **F**O**R** E**L**Y**S**I**U**M **A**N**D** E**T**E**R**N**A**L **D**A**M**N**A**T**I**O**N**_

_W_**_e_**_l_**_c_**_o_**_m_**_e_**_, N_**_e_**_w_**_l_**_y _**_D_**_e_**_c_**_e_**_a_**_s_**_e_**_d_**_!_

Out the back of the tent came two much smaller lines. To the left, spirits flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path toward the Fields of Punishment, which glowed and smoked in the distance, a vast, cracked wasteland with rivers of lava and minefields and miles of barbed wire separating the different torture areas. Even from far away, I could see people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches or listen to opera music.

* * *

I put my fingers in my ears and tried to block out the opera. Trust me, it was horrible. Thankfully, it wasn't as horrid as the stuff Chiron plays in his office. I swear even monsters can't handle it.

So if you ever come to camp and you hear it, do what the monsters do. _R__un._

* * *

I could just make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top. And I saw worse tortures, too—things I don't want to describe.

The line coming from the right side of the judgment pavilion was much better. This one led down toward a small valley surrounded by walls—a gated community, which seemed to be the only happy part of the Underworld. Beyond the security gate were neighborhoods of beautiful houses from every time period in history, Roman villas and medieval castles and Victorian mansions. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass rippled in rainbow colors. I could hear laughter and smell barbecue cooking.

Elysium.

In the middle of that valley was a glittering blue lake, with three small islands like a vacation resort in the Bahamas. The Isles of the Blest, for people who had chosen to be reborn three times, and three times achieved Elysium. Immediately I knew that's where I wanted to go when I died.

"That's what it's all about," Annabeth said, like she was reading my thoughts. "That's the place for heroes."

But I thought of how few people there were in Elysium, how tiny it was compared to the Fields of Asphodel or even the Fields of Punishment. So few people did good in their lives. It was depressing.

"My friends all went there," Mari mumbled as she slid her hand into the dagger sheath.

"Is that where you went?" I asked as I looked at the sorrow in her eyes. They looked like the river and the ocean, blue waters of hurt flowing into green tides of sadness.

"Yeah. I went to see Liz and Luca. It wasn't the best of reunions considering how I could barely see them, barely understand them, and I'm in the underworld and alive. It's not important, let's keep moving," she muttered as she hastily brushed away a few tears and moved away from me.

We left the judgment pavilion and moved deeper into the Asphodel Fields. It got darker. The colors faded from our clothes. The crowds of chattering spirits began to thin.

After a few miles of walking, we began to hear a familiar screech in the distance. Looming on the horizon was a palace of glittering black obsidian. Above the parapets swirled three dark bat like creatures: the Furies. I got the feeling they were waiting for us.

"I suppose it's too late to turn back," Grover said wistfully.

"We'll be okay." I tried to sound confident.

"Maybe we should search some of the other places first," Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance …"

"Come on, goat boy." Annabeth grabbed his arm.

Grover yelped. His sneakers sprouted wings and his legs shot forward, pulling him away from Annabeth. He landed flat on his back in the grass.

"Grover," Annabeth chided. "Stop messing around."

"But I didn't—"

He yelped again. His shoes were flapping like crazy now. They levitated off the ground and started dragging him away from us.

_"Maia!" _he yelled, but the magic word seemed to have no effect. _"Maia, _already! Nine-one-one! Help!"

I got over being stunned and made a grab for Grover's hand, but too late. He was picking up speed, skidding downhill like a bobsled.

We ran after him.

Annabeth shouted, "Untie the shoes!"

It was a smart idea, but I guess it's not so easy when your shoes are pulling you along feet first at full speed. Grover tried to sit up, but he couldn't get close to the laces.

We kept after him, trying to keep him in sight as he ripped between the legs of spirits who chattered at him in annoyance.

I was sure Grover was going to barrel straight through the gates of Hades's palace, but his shoes veered sharply to the right and dragged him in the opposite direction.

The slope got steeper. Grover picked up speed. Annabeth, Mari, and I had to sprint to keep up. The cavern walls narrowed on either side, and I realized we'd entered some kind of side tunnel. No black grass or trees now, just rock underfoot, and the dim light of the stalactites above.

"Grover!" I yelled, my voice echoing. "Hold on to something!"

"What?" he yelled back.

He was grabbing at gravel, but there was nothing big enough to slow him down.

The tunnel got darker and colder. The hairs on my arms bristled. It smelled evil down here. It made me think of things I shouldn't even know about—blood spilled on an ancient stone altar, the foul breath of a murderer.

Then I saw what was ahead of us, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

* * *

The tunnel widened into a huge dark cavern, and in the middle was a chasm the size of a city block.

I was frozen by fear. I wasn't scared of dying, or angry gods. I wasn't scared of pain. I was beyond scared of Tartarus.

Grover was sliding straight toward the edge.

* * *

"Come on, guys!" Annabeth yelled, tugging at my wrist and Mari's.

"But that's—"

"I know!" she shouted. "The place you described in your dream! But Grover's going to fall if we don't catch him." She was right, of course. Grover's predicament got me moving again.

He was yelling, clawing at the ground, but the winged shoes kept dragging him toward the pit, and it didn't look like we could possibly get to him in time.

What saved him were his hooves.

The flying sneakers had always been a loose fit on him, and finally Grover hit a big rock and the left shoe came flying off. It sped into the darkness, down into the chasm. The right shoe kept tugging him along, but not as fast. Grover was able to slow himself down by grabbing on to the big rock and using it like an anchor.

He was ten feet from the edge of the pit when we caught him and hauled him back up the slope. The other winged shoe tugged itself off, circled around us angrily and kicked our heads in protest before flying off into the chasm to join its twin.

We all collapsed, exhausted, on the obsidian gravel. My limbs felt like lead. Even my backpack seemed heavier, as if somebody had filled it with rocks.

Grover was scratched up pretty bad. His hands were bleeding. His eyes had gone slit-pupated, goat style, the way they did whenever he was terrified.

"I don't know how ..." he panted. "I didn't..."

"Wait," I said. "Listen."

I heard something—a deep whisper in the darkness.

Another few seconds, and Annabeth said, "Percy, this place—"

"Shh." I stood.

The sound was getting louder, a muttering, evil voice from far, far below us. Coming from the pit.

Grover sat up. "Wh—what's that noise?"

Annabeth heard it too, now. I could see it in her eyes. "Tartarus. The entrance to Tartarus." I uncapped Anaklusmos.

* * *

The bronze swords expanded, gleaming in the darkness, and the evil voice seemed to falter, just for a moment, before resuming its chant.

I could almost make out words now, ancient, ancient words, older even than Greek. As if ...

"Magic," I said.

* * *

"We have to get out of here," Annabeth said.

Together, we dragged Grover to his hooves and started back up the tunnel. My legs wouldn't move fast enough. My backpack weighed me down.

The voice got louder and angrier behind us, and we broke into a run.

Not a moment too soon.

A cold blast of wind pulled at our backs, as if the entire pit were inhaling. For a terrifying moment, I lost ground, my feet slipping in the gravel. If we'd been any closer to the edge, we would've been sucked in.

Mari lost her grip on the ground and fell, sliding toward the entrance to the pit. With a startled scream she reached for something to hold onto. Her hand wrapped around my ankle and I nearly fell too.

She pulled out her sword with one hand and dug it into the ground before using it to pull herself up. Thankfully, it worked.

We kept struggling forward, and finally reached the top of the tunnel, where the cavern widened out into the Fields of Asphodel. The wind died. A wail of outrage echoed from deep in the tunnel. Something was not happy we'd gotten away.

"What _was _that?" Grover panted, when we'dcollapsed in the relative safety of a black poplar grove. "One of Hades's pets?"

Annabeth and I looked at each other. I could tell she was nursing an idea, probably the same one she'd gotten during the taxi ride to L.A., but she was too scared to share it. That was enough to terrify me.

I capped my sword, put the pen back in my pocket. "Let's keep going." I looked at Grover. "Can you walk?"

He swallowed. "Yeah, sure. I never liked those shoes, anyway."

He tried to sound brave about it, but he was trembling as badly as Annabeth, Mari, and I were. Whatever was in that pit was nobody's pet. It was unspeakably old and powerful. Even Echidna hadn't given me that feeling. I was almost relieved to turn my back on that tunnel and head toward the palace of Hades.

Almost.

The Furies circled the parapets, high in the gloom. The outer walls of the fortress glittered black, and the two-story-tall bronze gates stood wide open.

* * *

Up close, I saw that the engravings on the gates were scenes of death. Some were from modern times—an atomic bomb exploding over a city, a trench filled with gas mask-wearing soldiers, a line of African famine victims waiting with empty bowls—but all of them looked as if they'd been etched into the bronze thousands of years ago. I wondered if I was looking at prophecies that had come true.

* * *

Inside the courtyard was the strangest garden I'd ever seen. Multicolored mushrooms, poisonous shrubs, and weird luminous plants grew without sunlight. Precious jewels made up for the lack of flowers, piles of rubies as big as my fist, clumps of raw diamonds. Standing here and there like frozen party guests were Medusa's garden statues— petrified children, satyrs, and centaurs—all smiling grotesquely.

In the center of the garden was an orchard of pomegranate trees, their orange blooms neon bright in the dark. "The garden of Persephone," Annabeth said. "Keep walking."

I understood why she wanted to move on. The tart smell of those pomegranates was almost overwhelming. I had a sudden desire to eat them, but then I remembered the story of Persephone. One bite of Underworld food, and we would never be able to leave.

I pulled Grover away to keep him from picking a big juicy one.

I turned to my sister and put an arm around her shaking shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh fine. Nearly getting sucked into the one place I fear is normal. Nothing to worry about," she snapped. She gave a shaky sigh and looked at me with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I just… I really don't like the underworld. The thigns in tartarus are not to be messed with, and I understand that now."

"What do you mean?"

"I just… let's keep moving. It's not important."

* * *

So, maybe the things locked away in tartarus were there for a reason.

Well, duh. Of course they were. So can you release monsters from tartarus just to get a job done?

No.

All I needed to focus on was getting out of here alive.

Liz and Luca, and Andy, were cornered in the underworld and died at camp from the wounds they'd received in Hades. I was not letting anything hurt my friends and brother. We _had _to get out of here alive. We _had _to get out of here without being harmed by something fatal.

* * *

We walked up the steps of the palace, between black columns, through a black marble portico, and into the house of Hades. The entry hall had a polished bronze floor, which seemed to boil in the reflected torchlight. There was no ceiling, just the cavern roof, far above. I guess they never had to worry about rain down here.

Every side doorway was guarded by a skeleton in military gear. Some wore Greek armor, some British redcoat uniforms, some camouflage with tattered American flags on the shoulders. They carried spears or muskets or M-16s. None of them bothered us, but their hollow eye sockets followed us as we walked down the hall, toward the big set of doors at the opposite end.

Two U.S. Marine skeletons guarded the doors. They grinned down at us, rocket-propelled grenade launchers held across their chests.

"You know," Grover mumbled, "I bet Hades doesn't have trouble with door-to-door salesmen."

My backpack weighed a ton now.

I couldn't figure out why. I wanted to open it, check to see if I had somehow picked up a stray bowling ball, but this wasn't the time.

"Well, guys," I said. "I suppose we should ... knock?"

A hot wind blew down the corridor, and the doors swung open. The guards stepped aside.

"I guess that means _entrez-vous," _Annabeth said.

The room inside looked just like in my dream, except this time the throne of Hades was occupied.

He was the third god I'd met, but the first who really struck me as godlike.

He was at least ten feet tall, for one thing, and dressed in black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. His skin was albino white, his hair shoulder-length and jet black. He wasn't bulked up like Ares, but he radiated power. He lounged on his throne of fused human bones, looking lithe, graceful, and dangerous as a panther.

I immediately felt like he should be giving the orders. He knew more than I did. He should be my master.

Then I told myself to snap out of it.

Hades's aura was affecting me, just as Ares's had. The Lord of the Dead resembled pictures I'd seen of Adolph Hitler, or Napoleon, or the terrorist leaders who direct suicide bombers. Hades had the same intense eyes, the same kind of mesmerizing, evil charisma.

"You are brave to come here, Son of Poseidon," he said in an oily voice. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish. And you, my niece, have betrayed me. You must really want to die by coming here."

Numbness crept into my joints, tempting me to lie down and just take a little nap at Hades's feet. Curl up here and sleep forever.

I fought the feeling and stepped forward. I knew what I had to say. "Lord and Uncle, I come with two requests."

Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward in his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment were stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out. The ADHD part of me wondered, off-task, whether the rest of his clothes were made the same way. What horrible things would you have to do in your life to get woven into Hades's underwear?

* * *

Of course! Leave it to my brother to think of those things. I swear sometimes we don't even seem like twins.

Sadly, I knew what was in Hades's underwear. I had been taught these things by Chiron.

First was Judis

Next Cashis

And finally…

Brutus.

Jusdis betrayed Jesus's whereabouts to the bad guys.

Chashis planned the assassination of Julius Ceaser.

Brutus, Julius' best friend, was within the mob that stabbed Julius to death.

These three are the foulest to exist, and so they are now working as Hades's underwear. Hmmm, I wonder if he wears boxers or briefs.

…

Okay … maybe Percy and I _are _twins.

* * *

"Only two requests?" Hades said. "Arrogant child. As if you have not already taken enough. Speak, then. It amuses me not to strike you dead yet."

I swallowed. This was going about as well as I'd feared.

I glanced at the empty, smaller throne next to Hades's. It was shaped like a black flower, gilded with gold. I wished Queen Persephone were here. I recalled something in the myths about how she could calm her husband's moods.

But it was summer. Of course, Persephone would be above in the world of light with her mother, the goddess of agriculture, Demeter. Her visits, not the tilt of the planet, create the seasons.

Annabeth cleared her throat. Her finger prodded me in the back.

"Lord Hades," I said. "Look, sir, there can't be a war among the gods. It would be ... bad."

"Really bad," Grover added helpfully.

"Return Zeus's master bolt to me," I said. "Please, sir. Let me carry it to Olympus."

Hades's eyes grew dangerously bright. "You dare keep up this pretense, after what you have done?"

I glanced back at my friends. They looked as confused as I was.

"Um ... Uncle," I said. "You keep saying 'after what you've done.' What exactly have I done?"

The throne room shook with a tremor so strong, they probably felt it upstairs in Los Angeles. Debris fell from the cavern ceiling. Doors burst open all along the walls, and skeletal warriors marched in, hundreds of them, from every time period and nation in Western civilization. They lined the perimeter of the room, blocking the exits.

Hades bellowed, "Do you think I _want _war, godling?"

I wanted to say, _Well, these guys don't look like peace activists. _

But I thought that might be a dangerous answer.

"Well these guys don't look like peace activists," Mari grumbled as she eyes them.

"Girl, watch your step," Hades growled. She rolled her eyes and look at me.

"You should do the talking then." I glared at her before turning back to Hades.

"You are the Lord of the Dead," I said carefully. "A war would expand your kingdom, right?"

"A typical thing for my brothers to say! Do you think I need more subjects? Did you not see the sprawl of the Asphodel Fields?"

"Well..."

"Have you any idea how much my kingdom has swollen in this past century alone, how many subdivisions I've had to open?" I opened my mouth to respond, but Hades was on a roll now.

"More security ghouls," he moaned. "Traffic problems at the judgment pavilion. Double overtime for the staff. I used to be a rich god, Percy Jackson. I control all the precious metals under the earth. But my expenses!"

"Charon wants a pay raise," I blurted, just remembering the fact. As soon as I said it, I wished I could sew up my mouth. Mari gave me a sharp elbow to the side and shook her head, her lips twitching as she suppressed laughter.

"Don't get me started on Charon!" Hades yelled. "He's been impossible ever since he discovered Italian suits! Problems everywhere, and I've got to handle all of them personally. The commute time alone from the palace to the gates is enough to drive me insane! And the dead just keep arriving. _No, _godling. I need no help getting subjects! I did not ask for this war."

"But you took Zeus's master bolt."

"Lies!" More rumbling. Hades rose from his throne, towering to the height of a football goalpost. "Your father may fool Zeus, boy, but I am not so stupid. I see his plan."

"His plan?"

_"You _were the thief on the winter solstice. Your father thought to keep you his little secret. He directed your sister into the throne room on Olympus. She took the master bolt _and _my helmet before handing them off to you," he hissed as he turned on my sister, who's eyes flooded with anger, then back to me. "Had I not sent my Fury to discover you at Yancy Academy, Poseidon might have succeeded in hiding his scheme to start a war. But now you have been forced into the open. You will be exposed as Poseidon's thieves, and I will have my helmet back!"

"But ..." Annabeth spoke. I could tell her mind was going a million miles an hour. "Lord Hades, your helmet of darkness is missing, too?"

"Do not play innocent with me, girl. You and the satyr have been helping these heroes—coming here to threaten me in Poseidon's name, no doubt—to bring me an ultimatum. Does Poseidon think I can be blackmailed into supporting him?"

"No!" I said. "Poseidon didn't—"

"I didn't—" Mari stuttered

"we didn't—" we tried.

"I have said nothing of the helmet's disappearance," Hades snarled, "because I had no illusions that anyone on Olympus would offer me the slightest justice, the slightest help. I can ill afford for word to get out that my most powerful weapon of fear is missing. So I searched for you myself, and when it was clear you were coming to me to deliver your threat, I did not try to stop you."

"You didn't try to stop us? But—"

"Return my helmet now, or I will stop death," Hades threatened. "That is my counterproposal. I will open the earth and have the dead pour back into the world. I will make your lands a nightmare. And you, Percy Jackson—_your _skeleton will lead my army out of Hades."

The skeletal soldiers all took one step forward, making their weapons ready.

* * *

I know, most people would be scared when faced down by Hades and his ghouly ghoulies. I wasn't. actually, I was furious.

How dare he accuse me of such an act?

How dare he think I was no longer on his side?

And most importantly…

How dare he threaten my brother?

* * *

At that point, I probably should have been terrified. The strange thing was, I felt offended. Nothing gets me angrier than being accused of something I didn't do. I've had a lot of experience with that.

"You're as bad as Zeus," I said. "You think I stole from you? You think my sister had something to do with it too? That's why you sent the Furies after me? "

"Of course," Hades said.

"And the other monsters?"

Hades curled his lip. "I had nothing to do with them. I wanted no quick death for you—I wanted you brought before me alive so you might face every torture in the Fields of Punishment. Why do you think I let you enter my kingdom so easily?"

_"Easily?"_

"Return my property!"

"But I don't have your helmet. I came for the master bolt."

"Which you already possess!" Hades shouted. "You came here with it, little fool, thinking you could you threaten me!"

"But I didn't!"

"Open your pack, then."

A horrible feeling struck me. The weight in my backpack, like a bowling ball. It couldn't be...

I slung it off my shoulder and unzipped it_. _Inside was a two-foot-long metal cylinder, spiked on both ends, humming with energy.

"Percy," Mari said. "How—"

"I—I don't know. I don't understand."

"You heroes are always the same," Hades said. "Your pride makes you foolish, thinking you could bring such a weapon before me. I did not ask for Zeus's master bolt, but since it is here, you will yield it to me. I am sure it will make an excellent bargaining tool. And now ... my helmet. Where is it?"

I was speechless. I had no helm. I had no idea how the master bolt had gotten into my backpack. I wanted to think Hades was pulling some kind of trick. Hades was the bad guy.

But suddenly the world turned sideways. I realized I'd been played with. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades had been set at each other's throats by someone else. The master bolt had been in the backpack, and I'd gotten the backpack from ...

* * *

My fury turned into shock and fear.

My father had never taken the bolt. _That much was obvious_. Zeus and Hades both blamed my father, brother, and myself f or the theft. _Well duh_. We had all been played with. By _him._

He had used us all as pawns. Even Ares.

How could I let this happen? Was I really _that_ clueless?

Yes. Of course. After all, I'm a _Seaweed Brain._ Guess it runs in the family.

* * *

"Lord Hades, wait," I said. "This is all a mistake."

"A mistake?" Hades roared.

The skeletons aimed their weapons. From high above, there was a fluttering of leathery wings, and the three Furies swooped down to perch on the back of their master's throne. The one with Mrs. Dodds's face grinned at me eagerly and flicked her whip.

"There is no mistake," Hades said. "I know why you have come—I know the _real _reason you brought the bolt. You came to bargain for _her_."

Hades loosed a ball of gold fire from his palm. It exploded on the steps in front of me, and there was my mother, frozen in a shower of gold, just as she was at the moment when the Minotaur began to squeeze her to death.

I couldn't speak. I reached out to touch her, but the light was as hot as a bonfire.

"Yes," Hades said with satisfaction. "I took her. I knew, Percy Jackson, that you would come to bargain with me eventually. Return my helmet, and perhaps I will let her go. She is not dead, you know. Not yet. But if you displease me, that will change."

I thought about the pearls in my pocket. Maybe they could get me out of this. If I could just get my mom free...

"Ah, the pearls," Hades said, and my blood froze.

"Yes, my brother and his little tricks. Bring them forth, Percy Jackson."

My hand moved against my will and brought out the pearls.

"Only four," Hades said. "What a shame. You do realize each only protects a single person. Try to take your mother, then, little godling. And which of your friends will you leave behind to spend eternity with me? Go on. Choose. Or give me the backpack and accept my terms."

I looked at Annabeth and Grover. Their faces were grim. I looked at my sister. Pain filled me as I saw the look of fear and determination on her face.

* * *

My mom. This is the first good look at her I've gotten in person. A picture never compares.

She was really pretty. There was pain in her eyes. I could see that last word on her lips. _Go. _Then I guess it all hit me.

Grover and Annabeth were going to fight over who stays.

Grover is loyal, he'd stay. But he has a goal; to be a searcher and find Pan.

Annabeth would want to be like Thalia, Luke, and myself no doubt. She's stand up for her friends and go down fighting.

Me? I just couldn't bear to let the ones I love be taken by Hades. Not anymore. Percy was a part of the real world. Annabeth had unfinished business with her family. Grover had done enough by sticking with us all for this long. Death didn't scare me. Hades didn't scare me. Why? He's my uncle. No matter how twisted, or how angry, he may be… I won't turn against my family. I won't fear them. I won't put myself before them either.

My mom did care about me, but she loved Percy more. Maybe nobody else would understand that. But my mother left _me _behind. She could have left Percy. She didn't. She kept him and gave him the chance to be as human as he could be.

So he deserved to have her and get out of here.

* * *

"We were tricked," I told them. "Set up."

"Yes, but why?" Annabeth asked. "And the voice in the pit—"

"I don't know yet," I said. "But I intend to ask."

"Decide, boy!" Hades yelled.

"Percy." Grover put his hand on my shoulder. "You can't give him the bolt,"

"I know that."

"Leave me here," he said. "Use the third pearl on your mom."

"No!"

"I'm a satyr," Grover said. "We don't have souls like humans do. He can torture me until I die, but he won't get me forever. I'll just be reincarnated as a flower or something. It's the best way."

"No." Annabeth drew her bronze knife. "You two go on. Grover, you have to protect Percy. You have to get your searcher's license and start your quest for Pan. Get his mom out of here. I'll cover you. I plan to go down fighting."

"Oh zip it Annie, I'll stay. Hades doesn't scare me and neither does death. Not like I ever had much to live for anyway," Mari said as she pulled out Seaside and uncapped it, her bronze sword shimmering into existence.

"No way," Grover said. "I'm staying behind."

"Think again, goat boy," Annabeth said.

"Shut up all of you!" I felt like my heart was being ripped in two. They had all been with me through so much. I remembered Grover dive-bombing Medusa in the statue garden, Mari taking down Echidna and losing her dagger, and Annabeth saving us from Cerberus; we'd survived Hephaestus's Waterland ride, the St. Louis Arch, the Lotus Casino. I had spent thousands of miles worried that I'd be betrayed by a friend, but these friends would never do that.

They had done nothing but save me, over and over, and now they wanted to sacrifice their lives for my mom. In Mari's case, our mom.

"I know what to do," I said. "Take these."

I handed them each a pearl.

Mari whispered, "But, Percy ..."

I turned and faced my mother. I desperately wanted to sacrifice myself and use the last pearl on her, but I knew what she would say. She would never allow it. I had to get the bolt back to Olympus and tell Zeus the truth. I had to stop the war. She would never forgive me if I saved her instead. I thought about the prophecy made at Half-Blood Hill, what seemed like a million years ago. _You will fail to save what matters most in the end._

"I'm sorry," I told her. "I'll be back. I'll find a way."

The smug look on Hades's face faded. He said, "Godling ... ?"

"I'll find your helmet, Uncle," I told him. "I'll return it. Remember about Charon's pay raise."

"Do not defy me—"

"And it wouldn't hurt to play with Cerberus once in a while. He likes red rubber balls."

"Percy Jackson, you will not—"

I shouted, "Now, guys!"

We smashed the pearls at our feet. For a scary moment, nothing happened. Hades yelled, "Destroy them!"

The army of skeletons rushed forward, swords out, guns clicking to full automatic. The Furies lunged, their whips bursting into flame. Just as the skeletons opened fire, the pearl fragments at my feet exploded with a burst of green light and a gust of fresh sea wind. I was encased in a milky white sphere, which was starting to float off the ground.

Mari, Annabeth, and Grover were right behind me. Spears and bullets sparked harmlessly off the pearl bubbles as we floated up. Hades yelled with such rage, the entire fortress shook and I knew it was not going to be a peaceful night in L.A.

"Look up." Grover yelled. "We're going to crash!"

Sure enough, we were racing right toward the stalactites, which I figured would pop our bubbles and skewer us.

"How do you control these things?" Annabeth shouted.

"I don't think you do!" I shouted back.

"Just stay calm!" Mari shouted as she slid her pen into her pocket. She shut her eyes tight and waited. I guess she really wasn't afraid to die.

We screamed as the bubbles slammed into the ceiling and ... Darkness.

Were we dead?

No, I could still feel the racing sensation. We were going up, right through solid rock as easily as an air bubble in water. That was the power of the pearls, I realized—_What belongs to the sea will always return to the sea._

For a few moments, I couldn't see anything outside the smooth walls of my sphere, then my pearl broke through on the ocean floor. The three other milky spheres, Mari, Annabeth, and Grover, kept pace with me as we soared upward through the water. And—_ker-blam!_

We exploded on the surface, in the middle of the Santa Monica Bay, knocking a surfer off his board with an indignant, "Dude!"

I grabbed Grover and hauled him over to a life buoy. Mari caught Annabeth and dragged her over too. A curious shark was circling us, a great white about eleven feet long.

Mari and I said, "Beat it."

* * *

You know, sometimes I really do love talking in sync with my brother. It's pretty fun.

To any twins out there: you should try it.

* * *

The shark turned and raced away.

The surfer screamed something about bad mushrooms and paddled away from us as fast as he could.

Somehow, I knew what time it was: early morning, June 21, the day of the summer solstice.

* * *

In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighborhoods all over the city. There had been an earthquake, all right, and it was Hades's fault. He was probably sending an army of the dead after Percy and I right now.

* * *

But at the moment, the Underworld wasn't our biggest problem. I had to get to shore. I had to get Zeus's thunderbolt back to Olympus. Most of all, I had to have a serious conversation with the god who'd tricked me.

* * *

**I'm back because I have two chapters to upload and this book is almost done so weeeee! Next chapter asap nd I'm workin on the ones after.**

**~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis**

oh and if i get the chapter orders wrong or miss a chapter PLEASE tell me because i'm confused and tired and freshman so I can use all the help I'd get.


	21. Chapter 20

Hey. I'm back for a bit. I can't believe just a couple of chapters remain. I can't reach my goal, and ya know what, I'm okay with that. Then I have time to get everything organized. See where Percy goes, see where it'll take Mari. It'll help.

I STILL WANNA 

LIVE WHILE WE'RE YOUNG!

So I'll do my writing whenever I can.

Dedicated to everybody who reviews and has reviewed :)

I**f** y**o**u **s**e**e** w**r**i**t**i**n**g like that it means it's being seen by both siblings.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**I Battle my Jerk Relative**

* * *

A Coast Guard boat picked us up, but they were too busy to keep us for long, or to wonder how three kids in street clothes had gotten out into the middle of the bay.

There was a disaster to mop up. Their radios were jammed with distress calls.

They dropped us off at the Santa Monica Pier with towels around our shoulders and water bottles that said I'M A JUNIOR COAST GUARD! and sped off to save more people.

Our clothes were sopping wet, even Mari's and mine. When the Coast Guard boat had appeared, I'd silently prayed they wouldn't pick me out of the water and find me or my sister perfectly dry, which might've raised some eyebrows.

So I'd willed myself to get soaked. Sure enough, my usual waterproof magic had abandoned me. I guess my sister did the same because I wasn't sure I had the power to soak another child of Poseidon. I was also barefoot, because I'd given my shoes to Grover. Better the Coast Guard wonder why one of us was barefoot than wonder why one of us had hooves.

* * *

After reaching dry land, we stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise. Seeing my mom made me angry, and it made me sorrowful. I mean, Percy looked so upset. It killed me to see that look in his eyes. Saddened streams and stormy oceans.

My mom made me upset, but I guess I got mad when I realized how much I wished she would have kept me instead. If she had, Percy would probably have gone through pretty much what I did, and I didn't want him to face all of that death.

And I wouldn't want to find out I'm a demigod after thinking I was just a flacked up mortal.

The worst part though? Seeing my sister, and my brother. I so wish I could have brought them back to life. Do what Orpheus couldn't.

Sadly, this was not the time for that.

* * *

I felt as if I'd just come back from the dead—which I had. My back pack was heavy with Zeus's master bolt. My heart was even heavier from seeing my mother.

"I don't believe it," Annabeth said. "We went all that way—"

"It was a trick," I said. "A strategy worthy of Athena."

"Hey," she warned.

"You get it, don't you?"

She dropped her eyes, her anger fading. "Yeah. I get it."

"Well, I don't!" Grover complained. "Would some body—"

"Percy ..." Annabeth said. "I'm sorry about your mother. I'm so sorry..."

I pretended not to hear her. If I talked about my mother, I was going to start crying like a little kid.

"The prophecy was right," I said. "You shall go west and face the god who has turned.' But it wasn't Hades. Hades didn't want war among the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades's helm, and framed me and Mari because we're Poseidon's kids. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And we'll have caused it."

Grover shook his head, mystified. "But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?"

I stopped in my tracks, looking down the beach. "Gee, let me think."

* * *

There he was, waiting for us, in his black leather duster and his sunglasses, an aluminum baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its head light turning the sand red.

"Hey, kids," Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see Percy and me. "You were supposed to die."

"You tricked us," I said furiously as I stood beside my brother. _"You _stole the helm and the master bolt."

Ares grinned. "Well, now, I didn't steal them personally. Gods taking each other's symbols of power—that's a big no-no. But you're not the only hero in the world who can run errands."

* * *

"Who did you use? Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice," I said.

The idea seemed to amuse him. "Doesn't matter. The point is, kid, you're impeding the war effort. See, you've got to die in the Underworld with your sister―nothing personal Mari. Then Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing his kids. Corpse Breath will have Zeus's master bolt, so Zeus'll be mad at _him. All of the big three_ will have _no kids_ Hades is still looking for this …"

* * *

From his pocket he took out a ski cap—the kind bank robbers wear—and placed it between the handlebars of his bike. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.

"The helm of darkness," Grover gasped.

"Exactly," Ares said. "Now where was I? Oh yeah, Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon, because he doesn't know who took this. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going."

"But they're your family!" Annabeth protested.

Like_ that _matters, I grumbled inside my head.

Ares shrugged. "Best kind of war. Always the bloodiest. Nothing like watching your relatives fight, I always say."

* * *

"You gave me the backpack in Denver," I said. "The master bolt was in there the whole time."

"Yes and no," Ares said. "It's probably too complicated for your little mortal brain to follow, but the backpack is the master bolt's sheath, just morphed a bit. The bolt is connected to it, sort of like that sword you got, kid. It always returns to your pocket, right?"

I wasn't sure how Ares knew about that, but I guess a god of war had to make it his business to know about weapons.

"Anyway," Ares continued, "I tinkered with the magic a bit, so the bolt would only return to the sheath once you reached the Underworld. You get close to Hades... Bingo, you got mail. If you died along the way—no loss. I still had the weapon."

"But why not just keep the master bolt for yourself?" I said. "Why send it to Hades?"

* * *

Ares got a twitch in his jaw. For a moment, it was almost as if he were listening to another voice, deep inside his head. "Why didn't I ... yeah ... with that kind of fire power ..."

He held the trance for one second ... two seconds...

I exchanged nervous looks with Annabeth.

I was certain about what was happening and I'm pretty sure she was too. Even if she didn't want to be.

* * *

Ares's face cleared. "I didn't want the trouble. Better to have you caught red-handed, holding the thing."

"You're lying," Mari and I chorused.

"Sending the bolt to the Underworld wasn't your idea, was it?" I asked.

"Of course it was!" Smoke drifted up from his sun glasses, as if they were about to catch fire.

"You didn't order the theft," I guessed. "Someone else sent a hero to steal the two items. Then, when Zeus sent you to hunt him down, you caught the thief. But you didn't turn him over to Zeus. Something convinced you to let him go. You kept the items until another hero could come along and complete the delivery. That thing in the pit is ordering you around."

"I am the god of war! I take orders from no one! I don't have dreams!"

I hesitated. "Who said anything about dreams?"

Ares looked agitated, but he tried to cover it with a smirk. "Let's get back to the problem at hand, kid. You're alive. I can't have you taking that bolt to Olympus. You just might get those hardheaded idiots to listen to you. So I've got to kill you. Nothing personal."

He snapped his fingers. The sand exploded at his feet and out charged a wild boar, even larger and uglier than the one whose head hung above the door of cabin seven at Camp Half-Blood. The beast pawed the sand, glaring at me with beady eyes as it lowered its razor-sharp tusks and waited for the command to kill.

I stepped into the surf. "Fight me yourself, Ares."

He laughed, but I heard a little edge to his laughter ... an uneasiness.

"You've only got one talent, kid, running away. You ran from the Chimera. You ran from the Underworld. You don't have what it takes."

"Scared?"

"In your adolescent dreams." But his sunglasses were starting to melt from the heat of his eyes. "No direct involvement. Sorry, kid. You're not at my level."

Annabeth said, "Percy, run!"

The giant boar charged.

But I was done running from monsters. Or Hades, or Ares, or anybody.

As the boar rushed me, I uncapped my pen and side stepped. Riptide appeared in my hands. I slashed upward. The boar's severed right tusk fell at my feet, while the disoriented animal charged into the sea.

I shouted, "Wave!"

* * *

Immediately, a wave surged up from nowhere and engulfed the boar, wrapping around it like a blanket. The beast squealed once in terror. Then it was gone, swallowed by the sea.

I'm sorry, but I think that's my new favorite way to kill my enemies.

* * *

I turned back to Ares. "Are you going to fight me now?" I asked. "Or are you going to hide behind another pet?"

Ares's face was purple with rage. "Watch it, kid. I could turn you into—"

"A cockroach," I said. "Or a tapeworm. Yeah, I'm sure. That'd save you from getting your godly hide whipped, wouldn't it?"

Flames danced along the top of his glasses. "Oh, man, you are really asking to be smashed into a grease spot."

"If I lose, turn me into anything you want. Take the bolt. If I win, the helm and the bolt are mine and _you _have to go away."

Ares sneered.

He swung the baseball bat off his shoulder. "How would you like to get smashed: classic or modern?"

I showed him my sword.

"That's cool, dead boy," he said. "Classic it is." The baseball bat changed into a huge, two-handed sword. The hilt was a large silver skull with a ruby in its mouth.

"Percy," Annabeth said. "Don't do this. He's a god."

"He's a coward," I told her.

She swallowed. "Wear this, at least. For luck."

She took off her necklace, with her five years' worth of camp beads and the ring from her father, and tied it around my neck.

"Reconciliation," she said. "Athena and Poseidon together."

My face felt a little warm, but I managed a smile. "Thanks."

"And take this," Grover said. He handed me a flattened tin can that he'd probably been saving in his pocket for a thousand miles. "The satyrs stand behind you."

"Grover ... I don't know what to say."

He patted me on the shoulder. I stuffed the tin can in my back pocket.

I looked at my sister and she just smiled at me before pulling her silver locket out of her hand and into mine, closing my fingers around it.

"It's got some of dad's magic in it, and it was the only link I had to my blood family. I don't need it anymore, I've got you. I know you'll win. Ares is a jerk."

"I'll deal with you next," Ares sneered. That made my blood boil, but my sister just gave him a glance before looking back in my direction. She smiled at me before she gave me a big hug and stepped back toward the others.

"You all done saying good-bye?" Ares came toward me, his black leather duster trailing behind him, his sword glinting like fire in the sunrise. "I've been fighting for eternity, kid. My strength is unlimited and I cannot die. What have you got?"

A smaller ego, I thought, but I said nothing. I kept my feet in the surf, backing into the water up to my ankles. I thought back to what Annabeth had said at the Denver diner, so long ago: _Ares has strength. That's all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes._

He cleaved downward at my head, but I wasn't there.

My body thought for me. The water seemed to push me into the air and I catapulted over him, slashing as I came down. But Ares was just as quick. He twisted, and the strike that should've caught him directly in the spine was deflected off the end of his sword hilt.

* * *

I couldn't help aiding my brother. _It's instinct! _Anyway, seeing him about to get sliced in two kind of made me panic.

My first thought: JUMP SEAWEED BRAIN!

Guess the twin link is on or something because this wave kind of catapulted him into the air and he landed behind Ares. Cool.

* * *

He grinned. "Not bad, not bad."

He slashed again and I was forced to jump onto dry land.

I tried to sidestep, to get back to the water, but Ares seemed to know what I wanted.

He outmaneuvered me, pressing so hard I had to put all my concentration on not getting sliced into pieces. I kept backing away from the surf. I couldn't find any openings to attack. His sword had a reach several feet longer than Anaklusmos.

* * *

I was pretty much destroying Annabeth's hand with my own. Can you blame me for being nervous?

There is a fish out of water! FISH OUT OF WATER PEOPLE! I could feel my insides churning like the ocean was running ramped in there and I so desperately hoped my brother could get back to the water. He was a natural with a sword and all, but it's so much easier for a demigod to fight while in their element.

Plus, his sword is shorter than Ares' death weapon.

WHY WON'T PERCY GET IN CLOSE! GET IN CLOSE! COME ON MAN!

* * *

_Get in close, _Luke had told me once, back in our sword class. _When you've got the shorter blade, get in close._

I stepped inside with a thrust, but Ares was waiting for that.

He knocked my blade out of my hands and kicked me in the chest. I went airborne—twenty, maybe thirty feet. I would've broken my back if I hadn't crashed into the soft sand of a dune.

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled.

"Cops!" Mari shouted.

* * *

Um… _ow._ Like, seriously! I'm a girl! It hurts so much more when we're kicked in the chest. Or when our twin-linked twin gets kicked in the chest and we just so happen to feel it. I was also dizzy, I couldn't focus on what I was seeing, and now I was using Annie as more of a support. So yeah. Um. Ow.

* * *

I was seeing double. My chest felt like it had just been hit with a battering ram, but I managed to get to my feet. I couldn't look away from Ares for fear he'd slice me in half, but out of the corner of my eye I saw red lights flashing on the shoreline boulevard. Car doors were slamming.

"There, officer!" somebody yelled. "See?"

A gruff cop voice: "Looks like that kid on TV ... what the heck ..."

"That guy's armed," another cop said. "Call for backup."

I rolled to one side as Ares's blade slashed the sand. I ran for my sword, scooped it up, and launched a swipe at Ares's face, only to find my blade deflected again.

Ares seemed to know exactly what I was going to do the moment before I did it.

* * *

You know what sucks?

If you're a non-ares-kid fighting without your demigod powers, and you're fighting with a weapon … well … Ares … the god of war, who knows his weapons … kind of knows your moves before you do …

THIS IS WHY WE DON'T FIGHT WAR GODS!

WE CAN FIGHT _ANY _OTHER DIETY BUT DO NOT FIGHT THE GOD OF FIGHTING!

* * *

I stepped back toward the surf, forcing him to follow.

* * *

YAAAAY! O-CEAN! O-CEAN! O-CEAN! GO WATER!

Oh my gods … I sound like a _cheerleader _… I think I'm going to puke.

* * *

"Admit it, kid," Ares said. "You got no hope. I'm just toying with you."

My senses were working overtime. I now understood what Annabeth had said about ADHD keeping you alive in battle. I was wide awake, noticing every little detail.

I could see where Ares was tensing. I could tell which way he would strike. At the same time, I was aware of Annabeth and Grover, and my sister, thirty feet to my left. I saw a second cop car pulling up, siren wailing. Spectators, people who had been wandering the streets because of the earthquake, were starting to gather. Among the crowd, I thought I saw a few who were walking with the strange, trotting gait of disguised satyrs. There were shimmering forms of spirits, too, as if the dead had risen from Hades to watch the battle. I heard the flap of leathery wings circling somewhere above.

More sirens.

I stepped farther into the water, but Ares was fast. The tip of his blade ripped my sleeve and grazed my forearm.

A police voice on a megaphone said, "Drop the guns. Set them on the ground. Now!"

Guns?

I looked at Ares's weapon, and it seemed to be flickering; sometimes it looked like a shotgun, sometimes a two-handed sword. I didn't know what the humans were seeing in my hands, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't make them like me.

Ares turned to glare at our spectators, which gave me a moment to breathe. There were five police cars now, and a line of officers crouching behind them, pistols trained on us.

"This is a private matter!" Ares bellowed. "Be gone.'"

He swept his hand, and a wall of red flame rolled across the patrol cars. The police barely had time to dive for cover before their vehicles exploded. The crowd behind them scattered, screaming.

Ares roared with laughter. "Now, little hero. Let's add you to the barbecue."

He slashed. I deflected his blade. I got close enough to strike, tried to fake him out with a feint, but my blow was knocked aside. The waves were hitting me in the back now. Ares was up to his thighs, wading in after me.

I felt the rhythm of the sea, the waves growing larger as the tide rolled in, and suddenly I had an idea. _Little waves, _I thought. And the water behind me seemed to recede. I was holding back the tide by force of will, but tension was building, like carbonation behind a cork.

* * *

Let me tell all of you demigods something. Holding back the tide … from the ocean … _the _ocean … that's hard. Why?

There are _endless _amounts of water pushing against you. It was taking all of my energy not to let that thing go and lift my brother off his feet! Not yet anyway.

Yes, I was helping the all-powerful son of the Sea God hold back the tides.

He doesn't know that.

And he doesn't have to.

So _zip it_.

* * *

Ares came toward me, grinning confidently. I lowered my blade, as if I were too exhausted to go on. _Wait for it, _I told the sea. The pressure now was almost lifting me off my feet. Ares raised his sword. I released the tide and jumped, rocketing straight over Ares on a wave.

A six-foot wall of water smashed him full in the face, leaving him cursing and sputtering with a mouth full of seaweed.

I landed behind him with a splash and feinted toward his head, as I'd done before. He turned in time to raise his sword, but this time he was disoriented, he didn't anticipate the trick. I changed direction, lunged to the side, and stabbed Riptide straight down into the water, sending the point through the god's heel.

The roar that followed made Hades's earthquake look like a minor event. The very sea was blasted back from Ares, leaving a wet circle of sand fifty feet wide.

Ichor, the golden blood of the gods, flowed from a gash in the war god's boot. The expression on his face was beyond hatred. It was pain, shock, and complete disbelief that he'd been wounded.

He limped toward me, muttering ancient Greek curses.

* * *

Something stopped him.

It was as if a cloud covered the sun, but worse. Light faded. Sound and color drained away. A cold, heavy presence passed over the beach, slowing time, dropping the temperature to freezing, and making me feel like life was hopeless, fighting was useless.

The darkness lifted.

Ares looked stunned.

* * *

Police cars were burning behind us. The crowd of spectators had fled. Mari, Annabeth, and Grover stood on the beach, in shock, watching the water flood back around Ares's feet, his glowing golden ichor dissipating in the tide.

Ares lowered his sword.

"You have made an enemy, godling," he told me. "You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Perseus Jackson. Beware."

His body began to glow.

''Percy!" Annabeth shouted.

"Don't watch!" Mari shrieked.

I turned away as the god Ares revealed his true immortal form. I somehow knew that if I looked, I would disintegrate into ashes.

* * *

I've seen a god's true form once. Well, almost. Just before I would have turned to ashes, a pile of snow had fallen onto me and I couldn't see a thing. The snow melted as the light blasted and then faded, but I was left with a throbbing headache and _everything_ was sore. Near-disintegration can do that to a godling ya know. Really it's just a long confusing story I might tell you. One day anyway.

The light died.

I looked back. Ares was gone. The tide rolled out to reveal Hades's bronze helm of darkness.

* * *

I picked it up and walked toward my friends.

But before I got there, I heard the flapping of leathery wings. Three evil-looking grandmothers with lace hats and fiery whips drifted down from the sky and landed in front of me.

The middle Fury, the one who had been Mrs. Dodds, stepped forward. Her fangs were bared, but for once she didn't look threatening. She looked more disappointed, as if she'd been planning to have me for supper, but had decided I might give her indigestion.

"We saw the whole thing," she hissed. "So ... it truly was not you?"

I tossed her the helmet, which she caught in surprise.

"Return that to Lord Hades," I said. "Tell him the truth. Tell him to call off the war."

She hesitated, then ran a forked tongue over her green, leathery lips. "Live well, Percy Jackson. Become a true hero. Because if you do not, if you ever come into my clutches again …"

She cackled, savoring the idea. Then she and her sisters rose on their bats' wings, fluttered into the smoke-filled sky, and disappeared.

I joined Grover and Annabeth, who were staring at me in amazement. My sister seemed to spring up out of the sand and latch onto me in a hug so tight I almost broke a rib.

"Percy ..." Grover said. "That was so incredibly ..."

"Terrifying," said Annabeth.

"Cool!" Grover corrected.

I didn't feel terrified. I certainly didn't feel cool. I was tired and sore and completely drained of energy.

*Doesn't mean you weren't still awesome.*

*I don't fell awesome.*

*Doesn't mean you aren't.*

…

*Ha, knew you couldn't argue with me.*

"Did you guys feel that... whatever it was?" I asked.

They all nodded uneasily.

"Must've been the Furies overhead," Grover said.

But I wasn't so sure. Something had stopped Ares from killing me, and whatever could do that was a lot stronger than the Furies.

I looked at Annabeth, and an understanding passed between us. I knew now what was in that pit, what had spoken from the entrance of Tartarus. I looked at my sister. She didn't meet my eye. She knew too. I could hear her thoughts.

I reclaimed my backpack from Grover and looked inside. The master bolt was still there. Such a small thing to almost cause World War III.

"We have to get back to New York," I said. "By tonight."

"That's impossible," Annabeth said.

Mari gulped. "unless we—"

"Fly," I agreed.

She stared at me like she couldn't believe I finished _that_ sentence for her. "Fly, like, in an airplane, which you and I were warned never to do lest Zeus strike me and you out of the sky, _and _carrying a weapon that has more destructive power than a nuclear bomb?"

"Yeah," I said. "Pretty much exactly like that. Come on."

* * *

**Woah, two chapters left. Then The Lightning Theif is over and done with. Woah, never though _I'd _finish a story. Wow. So yeah, I'll be back. **

**~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis**

oh and if i get the chapter orders wrong or miss a chapter PLEASE tell me because i'm confused and tired and freshman so I can use all the help I'd get.


	22. Chapter 21

Hey. I'm back for a bit. I can't believe just a couple of chapters remain. I can't reach my goal, and ya know what, I'm okay with that. Then I have time to get everything organized. See where Percy goes, see where it'll take Mari. It'll help.

I STILL WANNA 

LIVE WHILE WE'RE YOUNG!

So I'll do my writing whenever I can.

Dedicated to everybody who reviews and has reviewed :)

I**f** y**o**u **s**e**e** w**r**i**t**i**n**g like that it means it's being seen by both siblings.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**I Settle My Tab**

It's funny how humans can wrap their mind around things and fit them into their version of reality. Chiron had told me that long ago. As usual, I didn't appreciate his wisdom until much later.

According to the L.A. news, the explosion at the Santa Monica beach had been caused when a crazy kidnapper fired a shotgun at a police car. He accidentally hit a gas main that had ruptured during the earthquake. This crazy kidnapper (a.k.a. Ares) was the same man who had abducted me and two other adolescents in New York and brought us across country on a ten-day odyssey of terror.

* * *

Poor little Percy Jackson wasn't an international criminal after all.

* * *

He'd caused a commotion on that Greyhound bus in New Jersey trying to get away from his captor (and afterward, witnesses would even swear they had seen the leather-clad man on the bus—"Why didn't I remember him before?"). The crazy man had caused the explosion in the St. Louis Arch. After all, no kid could've done that. A concerned waitress in Denver had seen the man threatening his abductees outside her diner, gotten a friend to take a photo, and notified the police. Finally, brave Percy Jackson (I was beginning to like this kid) had stolen a gun from his captor in Los Angeles and battled him shotgun-to-rifle on the beach.

* * *

Police had arrived just in time. But in the spectacular explosion, five police cars had been destroyed and the captor had fled. No fatalities had occurred. Percy Jackson and his trio of friends were safely in police custody.

The reporters fed us this whole story. We just nodded and acted tearful and exhausted (which wasn't hard), and played victimized kids for the cameras.

* * *

"All I want," I said, choking back my tears, "is to see my loving stepfather again. Every time I saw him on TV, calling me a delinquent punk, I knew ... somehow ... we would be okay. And I know he'll want to reward each and every person in this beautiful city of Los Angeles with a free major appliance from his store. Here's the phone number." The police and reporters were so moved that they passed around the hat and raised money for four tickets on the next plane to New York.

I knew there was no choice but to fly. I hoped Zeus would cut me some slack, considering the circumstances. But it was still hard to force myself on board the flight.

* * *

Takeoff was a nightmare. Every spot of turbulence was scarier than a Greek monster.

I think I might have broken my brother's arm bone or something, I was holding him that tightly. But can you blame me? I don't _do_ flying. I'm not into getting shot outta the sky and barbequed by lightning.

* * *

I didn't unclench my hands from the armrests until we touched down safely at La Guardia. The local press was waiting for us outside security, but we managed to evade them thanks to Annabeth, who lured them away in her invisible Yankees cap, shouting, "They're over by the frozen yogurt! Come on!" then rejoined us at baggage claim.

We split up at the taxi stand. I told Annabeth and Grover to get back to Half-Blood Hill and let Chiron know what had happened. They protested, and it was hard to let them go after all we'd been through, but I knew this last part of the quest was up to me and Mari. If things went wrong, if the gods didn't believe us ... I wanted Annabeth and Grover to survive to tell Chiron the truth. Maybe it was selfish to take my sister down with me, but she glared at me with such defiance when I tried sending her back to camp as well, and really, there is no arguing with Marisol Jackson when she's put her mind to it.

So we hopped in a taxi and headed into Manhattan. Thirty minutes later, we walked into the lobby of the Empire State Building.

We must have looked like a pair of homeless kids, with tattered clothes and scraped-up faces. We hadn't slept in at least twenty-four hours either.

I went up to the guard at the front desk and said, "Six hundredth floor."

He was reading a huge book with a picture of a wizard on the front. I wasn't much into fantasy, but the book must've been good, because the guard took a while to look up. "No such floor, kiddo."

"We need an audience with Zeus."

He gave me a vacant smile. "Sorry?"

"You heard me."

I was about to decide this guy was just a regular mortal, and I'd better run for it before he called the straitjacket patrol, when he said, "No appointment, no audience, kiddo. Lord Zeus doesn't see anyone unannounced."

* * *

"Oh, I think he'll make an exception." I growled. The guy at the desk, who's name I actually never learned, looked at me and blinked in surprise. Maybe he recognized me. I nodded to my brother and he reached toward his bag.

* * *

I slipped off my backpack and unzipped the top. The guard looked inside at the metal cylinder, not getting what it was for a few seconds.

Then his face went pale. "That isn't..."

"Yes, it is," Mari promised. She smirked and I decided to play along.

"You want me take it out and—"

"No! No!" He scrambled out of his seat, fumbled around his desk for a key card, then handed it to me. "Insert this in the security slot. Make sure nobody else is in the elevator with you."

I did as he told me. As soon as the elevator doors closed, I slipped the key into the slot. The card disappeared and a new button appeared on the console, a red one that said 600.

I made to press it but Mari caught my hand and gave me a puppy-dog look.

"Please, please please, can I hit the button?" she begged. I looked at her, bewildered.

"What?"

"Please? They've never let me hit the button before. Please? It's so pretty and red and―"

"Is this really the time to act like a five year old?" I asked her impatiently.

"Well yeah. I'd like to live while we're young, and considering I might die young, well, in like five minutes, I might as well do some of the stuff on my bucket list. _Like push the red button!_" she cried. I gave a small chuckle before letting her press the button.

* * *

"Yay!" I squealed. I pressed the red button and began jumping around the elevator in excitement. So, maybe it was childish, but hey! I've been dying to press that damned button since I was a baby! Since I'm probably going to get shocked to death soon, you know ― since Zeus is unreasonable ― I might as well do something fun first.

Then the boring part came.

Waiting.

* * *

Then we waited and waited, and waited.

Muzak played. "Raindrops keep falling on my head..."

Finally, _ding. _The doors slid open. I stepped out and almost had a heart attack.

Mari and I were standing on a narrow stone walkway in the middle of the air. Below us was Manhattan, from the height of an airplane. In front of us, white marble steps wound up the spine of a cloud, into the sky. My eyes followed the stairway to its end, where my brain just could not accept what I saw.

Look again, my brain said.

We're looking, my eyes insisted. It's really there.

* * *

From the top of the clouds rose the decapitated peak of a mountain, its summit covered with snow. Clinging to the mountainside were dozens of multileveled palaces—a city of mansions—all with white-columned porticos, gilded terraces, and bronze braziers glowing with a thousand fires. Roads wound crazily up to the peak, where the largest palace gleamed against the snow. Precariously perched gar dens bloomed with olive trees and rosebushes.

* * *

I could make out an open-air market filled with colorful tents, a stone amphitheater built on one side of the mountain, a hippodrome and a coliseum on the other. It was an Ancient Greek city, except it wasn't in ruins. It was new, and clean, and colorful, the way Athens must've looked twenty-five hundred years ago.

This place can't be here, I told myself. The tip of a mountain hanging over New York City like a billion-ton asteroid? How could something like that be anchored above the Empire State Building, in plain sight of millions of people, and not get noticed?

But here it was. And here I was.

"Oh quit your gawking and let's get moving," Mari said in exasperation before pulling me along by the arm.

* * *

I have to admit, it's pretty amazing up here on Olympus but, after twelve years, you get used to it. Plus, we didn't exactly have time to go sightseeing.

* * *

My trip through Olympus was a daze. I passed some giggling wood nymphs who threw olives at me from their garden ― seems my sister doesn't like them to much since she hurled pebbles at them in return. Hawkers in the market offered to sell me ambrosia-on-a-stick, and a new shield, and a genuine glitter-weave replica of the Golden Fleece, as seen on Hephaestus-TV The nine muses were tuning their instruments for a concert in the park while a small crowd gathered—satyrs and naiads and a bunch of good-looking teenagers who might've been minor gods and goddesses. Nobody seemed worried about an impending civil war. In fact, everybody seemed in a festive mood.

Several of them turned to watch us pass, and whispered to themselves. We climbed the main road, toward the big palace at the peak. It was a reverse copy of the palace in the Underworld.

* * *

There, everything had been black and bronze.

* * *

Here, everything glittered white and silver.

I realized Hades must've built his palace to resemble this one. He wasn't welcomed in Olympus except on the winter solstice …

* * *

So he'd built his own Olympus underground.

* * *

Despite my bad experience with him, I felt a little sorry for the guy. To be banished from this place seemed really unfair. It would make anybody bitter.

* * *

Steps led up to a central courtyard. Past that, the throne room.

* * *

_Room _really isn't the right word. The place made Grand Central Station look like a broom closet. Massive columns rose to a domed ceiling, which was gilded with moving constellations.

Twelve thrones, built for beings the size of Hades, were arranged in an inverted U, just like the cabins at Camp Half-Blood. An enormous fire crackled in the central hearth pit. The thrones were empty except for two at the end: the head throne on the right, and the one to its immediate left. I didn't have to be told who the two gods were that were sitting there, waiting for me and Mari to approach. I came toward them, my legs trembling.

The gods were in giant human form, as Hades had been, but I could barely look at them without feeling a tingle, as if my body were starting to burn. Zeus, the Lord of the Gods, wore a dark blue pinstriped suit. He sat on a simple throne of solid platinum. He had a well-trimmed beard, marbled gray and black like a storm cloud. His face was proud and handsome and grim, his eyes rainy gray.

As we got nearer to him, the air crackled and smelled of ozone.

The god sitting next to him was his brother, without a doubt, but he was dressed very differently. He reminded me of a beachcomber from Key West.

* * *

He wore leather sandals, khaki Bermuda shorts, and a Tommy Bahama shirt with coconuts and parrots all over it.

His skin was deeply tanned, his hands scarred like an old-time fisherman's. His hair was black, like ours.

* * *

His face had that same brooding look that had always gotten me branded a rebel. But his eyes, sea green like ours, were surrounded by sun-crinkles that told me he smiled a lot, too.

* * *

His throne was a deep-sea fisherman's chair. It was the simple swiveling kind, with a black leather seat and a built-in holster for a fishing pole. Instead of a pole, the holster held a bronze trident, flickering with green light around the tips.

* * *

The gods weren't moving or speaking, but there was tension in the air, as if they'd just finished an argument.

I approached the fisherman's throne and knelt at his feet. "Father."

I dared not look up. My heart was racing. I could feel the energy emanating from the two gods. If I said the wrong thing, I had no doubt they could blast me into dust.

* * *

I walked past my father and knelt at the feet of my uncle. Sure, I don't like Zeus. Never really did, he's a paranoid jerk with dangerous play toys. I don't like my father, I just don't like him a lot more. How could he just let me walk by for so long!? How could he allow my mom to leave me behind?

I resented both gods. Out of the big three Hades is my favorite because I know what it's like to have your family leave you behind without one look back. Plus, Hades isn't as bad as he seems.

So I knelt in front of Zeus and shot my brother a look. You should always address the master of the house first, or get kicked out. In the case of the gods, blasted to bits.

* * *

To my left, Zeus spoke. "Should you not address the master of this house first, as your sister had done, boy?"

I kept my head down, and waited.

"Peace, brother," Poseidon finally said. His voice stirred my oldest memories: that warm glow I remembered as a baby, the sensation of this god's hand on my forehead, "The boy defers to his father, as his sister should. This is only right."

"You still claim him then?" Zeus asked, menacingly. "You claim this child and his sister, whom you sired against our sacred oath?"

"I have admitted my wrongdoing," Poseidon said. "Now I would hear him speak."

* * *

W**r**o**n**g**d**o**i**n**g**.

* * *

A lump welled up in my throat. Was that all I was? A wrongdoing? The result of a god's mistake?

* * *

I felt my throat tighten as the tears came to my eyes. I was glad I was kneeling, because my hair fell to the sides of my face and shielded me from the eyes of my father.

Thanks dad, thanks so much. I swear, hearing your father call you a mistake, like you aren't even there, is worse than being unclaimed. I would know. I've been unclaimed for twelve damned years.

But I'm not going to cry. Not now, not ever. If my _father_ doesn't care, then: _Neither. Do. I._

* * *

"I have spared him once already, as well as the girl," Zeus grumbled. "Daring to fly through my domain ... pah! I should have blasted them out of the sky for their impudence."

"And risk destroying your own master bolt?" Poseidon asked calmly. "Let us hear them out, brother."

Zeus grumbled some more. "I shall listen," he decided. "Then I shall make up my mind whether or not to cast this boy down from Olympus and drop the girl into a storm-cloud."

"Perseus, Marisol," Poseidon said. "Look at me."

* * *

I **d**i**d**,

* * *

And it made me angry. He looked so distant it hurt. I can't believe I ever wanted to be claimed. The gods are just so … so _ugh!_

Couldn't he just care?! Couldn't he just tell me he was sorry for blatantly ignoring me for my entire life. I mean, how hard is it to say _sorry_?

I bet he didn't even _want_ me as his kid, he just wanted somebody to clear his name. I'm nothing special anyway. Just plain old Messed Up Marisol. The girl who's lost everybody she cares about. The girl who gets angry over the smallest things, or cries when it gets too hard. The girl who hangs onto the past and holds grudges. The girl who is so impossible people are probably _happy_ to die if it means getting rid of her.

So yeah, go on dad, be happy that after this: I'm done being your kid.

* * *

and I wasn't sure what I saw in his face. There was no clear sign of love or approval. Nothing to encourage me. It was like looking at the ocean: some days, you could tell what mood it was in. Most days, though, it was unreadable, mysterious.

I got the feeling Poseidon really didn't know what to think of me. He didn't know whether he was happy to have me as a son or not. In a strange way, I was glad that Poseidon was so distant. If he'd tried to apologize, or told me he loved me, or even smiled, it would've felt fake. Like a human dad, making some lame excuse for not being around. I could live with that. After all, I wasn't sure about him yet, either.

"Address Lord Zeus, boy," Poseidon told me. "Tell him your story."

So I told Zeus everything, just as it had happened. Mari added in her commentaries and the bits I wasn't around for. I took out the metal cylinder, which began sparking in the Sky God's presence, and laid it at his feet.

There was a long silence, broken only by the crackle of the hearth fire.

Zeus opened his palm. The lightning bolt flew into it.

* * *

As he closed his fist, the metallic points flared with electricity, until he was holding what looked more like the classic thunderbolt, a twenty-foot javelin of arcing, hissing energy that made the hairs on my scalp rise.

* * *

"I sense the boy tells the truth," Zeus muttered. "But that Ares would do such a thing ... it is most unlike him."

"He is proud and impulsive," Poseidon said. "It runs in the family."

"Lord?" I asked.

They both said, "Yes?"

"Ares didn't act alone. Someone else—something else— came up with the idea."

I described my dreams, and the feeling I'd had on the beach, that momentary breath of evil that had seemed to stop the world, and made Ares back off from killing me.

"In the dreams," I said, "the voice told me to bring the bolt to the Underworld. Ares hinted that he'd been having dreams, too. I think he was being used, just as I was, to start a war."

"You are accusing Hades, after all?" Zeus asked.

"No," I said. "I mean, Lord Zeus, I've been in the presence of Hades. This feeling on the beach was different. It was the same thing I felt when I got close to that pit. That was the entrance to Tartarus, wasn't it? Something powerful and evil is stirring down there ... something even older than the gods."

* * *

Poseidon and Zeus looked at each other. They had a quick, intense discussion in Ancient Greek. Oh how I wish I didn't understand everything they were saying. But of course, my father probably didn't know that since _he never bothered noticing me_.

Well don't I sound bitter? Ha, Luke would be proud.

* * *

I only caught one word. _Father._

Poseidon made some kind of suggestion, but Zeus cut him off. Poseidon tried to argue. Zeus held up his hand angrily. "We will speak of this no more," Zeus said. "I must go personally to purify this thunderbolt in the waters of Lemnos, to remove the human taint from its metal."

He rose and looked at me. His expression softened just a fraction of a degree. "You have done me a service, boy. Few heroes could have accomplished as much."

"I had help, sir," I said. "My sister. Grover Underwood and Annabeth Chase—"

"To show you my thanks, I shall spare your lives. I do not trust you, Perseus Jackson. I do not like what your arrival means for the future of Olympus. But for the sake of peace in the family, I shall let you and your sister live."

"Um... thank you, sir."

"Do not presume to fly again. Do not let me find you here when I return. Otherwise you shall taste this bolt. And it shall be your last sensation."

Thunder shook the palace. With a blinding flash of lightning, Zeus was gone.

I was alone in the throne room with my sister and father. "Your uncle," Poseidon sighed, "has always had a flair for dramatic exits. I think he would've done well as the god of theater."

An uncomfortable silence.

"Sir," I said, "what was in that pit?"

Poseidon regarded me. "Have you not guessed?"

"Kronos," I said. "The king of the Titans."

Even in the throne room of Olympus, far away from Tartarus, the name _Kronos_ darkened the room, made the hearth fire seem not quite so warm on my back. My sister shuddered and glared at me before whacking my arm. Yeah, I could have done without that.

Poseidon gripped his trident. "In the First War, Percy, Zeus cut our father Kronos into a thousand pieces, just as Kronos had done to his own father, Ouranos. Zeus cast Kronos's remains into the darkest pit of Tartarus. The Titan army was scattered, their mountain fortress on Etna destroyed, their monstrous allies driven to the farthest corners of the earth. And yet Titans cannot die, any more than we gods can. Whatever is left of Kronos is still alive in some hideous way, still conscious in his eternal pain, still hungering for power."

"He's healing," I said. "He's coming back."

Poseidon shook his head. "From time to time, over the eons, Kronos has stirred. He enters men's nightmares and breathes evil thoughts. He wakens restless monsters from the depths. But to suggest he could rise from the pit is another thing."

"That's what he intends, Father. That's what he said."

"You can't honestly think that with as many Big Threes there have been in the last hundred years, that Kronos doesn't have it in him to rise?" My sister asked in disbelief.

Poseidon was silent for a long time.

"Lord Zeus has closed discussion on this matter. He will not allow talk of Kronos. You have completed your quest, children. That is all you need to do."

"But—" I stopped myself. Arguing would do no good. It would very possibly anger the only god who I had on my side. "As ... as you wish, Father."

A faint smile played on his lips. "Obedience does not come naturally to either of you, does it?"

"No ... sir."

My sister just glared at him and began muttering about parenting skills.

"I must take some blame for that, I suppose. The sea does not like to be restrained." He rose to his full height and took up his trident. Then he shimmered and became the size of a regular man, standing directly in front of us. "You must go, children. But first, know that your mother has returned."

* * *

So, I may not like my mom that much, but, well, hearing that … well … yeah I never really intended to see _her _again. This just makes it a whole lot harder.

* * *

I stared at him, completely stunned. "My mother?"

"You will find her at home. Hades sent her when you recovered his helm. Even the Lord of Death pays his debts."

"Well of course he does, he's not as bad as everybody seems to think," Mari grumbled.

My heart was pounding. I couldn't believe it. "Do you ... would you ..."

I wanted to ask if Poseidon would come with me to see her, but then I realized that was ridiculous. I imagined loading the God of the Sea into a taxi and taking him to the Upper East Side. If he'd wanted to see my mom all these years, he would have. And there was Smelly Gabe to think about.

Poseidon's eyes took on a little sadness. "When you return home, Percy, you must make an important choice. You will find a package waiting in your room."

"A package?"

"You will understand when you see it. No one can choose your path, Percy. You must decide."

I nodded, though I didn't know what he meant.

"Your mother is a queen among women," Poseidon said wistfully. "I had not met such a mortal woman in a thousand years. Still ... I am sorry you were born, children. I have brought you a hero's fate, and a hero's fate is never happy. It is never anything but tragic."

I tried not to feel hurt. Here was my own dad, telling me he was sorry I'd been born. I looked at my sister when I felt my eyes burning and I saw she looked ready to start crying, or screaming. I was surprised she hadn't blown a gasket by now.

"I don't mind, Father."

"Not yet, perhaps," he said. "Not yet. But it was an unforgivable mistake on my part."

"Guess it is," Mari muttered. "After all I had to watch my family die when I was six, then again when I was seven, then ten, then eleven, who's next? Percy?"

Our father looked at her and he sighed. As he moved to say something she turned her back on him and went _hmph_.

"I'll leave you then." I bowed awkwardly. "I—I won't bother you again."

I was five steps away when he called, "Perseus."

I turned.

There was a different light in his eyes, a fiery kind of pride. "You did well, Perseus. Do not misunderstand me. Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the Sea God."

* * *

Percy left the throne room leaving me with old Barnacle Beard.

"Marisol," he started.

"You abandoned me. You had my mother abandon me. You let my family die. You let me walk by you twenty-four flippin times. Do you expect me to forgive you? To be _proud_ to be your kid?" I shrieked.

"No I do not. But you must know that I have tried with all my might not to allow this. If you hadn't been born you wouldn't have―"

"Had a father who plays favorites? Who let my own mother leave me _alone_? Who, in turn, granted me uncles who want me dead now. Hades was my friend and you claimed me so he hates me! Ares hates me because we stopped him. Zeus hates me. You called me a mistake. You wish I wasn't even born. But no, not for me. For you. So you wouldn't have to deal with all of the drama. After all, I'm just a servant. But I'm done. As of now, I'm not your kid. I'm unclaimed. I'm pretending this never happened, and that I'm just an unclaimed demigod who's waiting for a _real_ parent to claim me. Goodbye God of the Seas," I said before turning and walking out of the throne room.

I hope he hates me. I sure as hades hate him.

"You shall find something in your cabin upon your return. It does not make up for all that has happened, but I hope it makes you happier then you are now," he called.

I brushed the tears from my cheeks and ran after my brother, who was halfway back to the elevator.

* * *

As I walked back through the city of the gods, conversations stopped. The muses paused their concert. People and satyrs and naiads all turned toward me, their faces filled with respect and gratitude, and as I passed, they knelt, as if I were some kind of hero.

Fifteen minutes later, still in a trance, I was back on the streets of Manhattan with my sister.

"I guess you're going home?" she asked me. I looked at her, startled.

"Aren't you coming with me?" I asked her. She gave me a bright smile and shook her head.

"Percy, you're my big brother. My twin brother. I love you and all, but your mom is your family. Camp is where my family is. That's where it's always been. It'd be great if you could stay with me as a year rounder but I guess you're a part of the real world. So go home, smack that jerk Gabe for me, and tell mom that I'm at camp. That I'm fine," she said. I looked at her and sighed before nodding my agreement.

"Get back to camp safely okay? I don't want to lose you after just a month," I said to her in that big brother's tone. She grinned at me before throwing her arms around me and hugging me.

"Good luck," she whispered before hailing a cab and heading back to camp.

I caught a taxi to my mom's apartment, rang the doorbell, and there she was—my beautiful mother, smelling of peppermint and licorice, the weariness and worry evaporating from her face as soon as she saw me.

"Percy! Oh, thank goodness. Oh, my baby."

She crushed the air right out of me. We stood in the hallway as she cried and ran her hands through my hair.

I'll admit it—my eyes were a little misty, too.

I was shaking, I was so relieved to see her.

* * *

I arrived back to camp alright, and the instant I set foot in the dining pavilion for lunch I was tackled to the ground and lost under a dog pile of a hug.

I swear they pretty much crushed the life outta me.

When we got up, I saw Annie, Grover, the Stolls, Charlie, Will and his sister Blaze had been the huggers. Everyone at camp gave me props for living and helping Percy get back the bolt. When they asked about him the atmosphere grew somber.

"Is he … is he―?" Annie asked me worriedly. I grinned at her.

"No. he just went home to see his mom, he might come back to camp. If he does, he's a hero. If somebody shows him disrespect, come see me so that I can feed you to the giant squid in the lake," I grinned. I heard Clarisse sigh and I only started laughing.

Then I had some more personal reunions to take care of.

* * *

She told me she'd just appeared at the apartment that morning, scaring Gabe half out of his wits. She didn't remember anything since the Minotaur, and couldn't believe it when Gabe told her I was a wanted criminal, traveling across the country, blowing up national monuments. She'd been going out of her mind with worry all day because she hadn't heard the news. Gabe had forced her to go into work, saying she had a month's salary to make up and she'd better get started.

I swallowed back my anger and remembered what Mari had said.

"Mom, she's okay." She got it instantly.

"Is she? Is she really? How is she? What's she like?" she asked eagerly. So I told her my own story. I tried to make it sound less scary than it had been, but that wasn't easy. I was just getting to the fight with Ares when Gabe's voice interrupted from the living room. "Hey, Sally! That meat loaf done yet or what?"

She closed her eyes. "He isn't going to be happy to see you, Percy. The store got half a million phone calls today from Los Angeles ... something about free appliances."

"Oh, yeah. About that..."

She managed a weak smile. "Just don't make him angrier, all right? Come on."

* * *

I grinned as I walked into the Hermes cabin and saw Luke crawling out from under my bed.

"Didn't I say that was off limits?" I called jokingly. Luke jumped and hit his head on the bottom of my bed.

"Mari! You're back!" he exclaimed before coming over and wrapping me up in a siblingly hug.

"Yes, yes I am. It worked," I said as I held up the wrist with the leather bracelet on it. Luke grinned and began twirling it around my wrist.

"It always does doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess. It got us to camp, then it got you out alive on the golden apple quest, and now … I wonder what happened that made the bracelet so lucky."

"Simple. It had the hopes and dreams of a seven year old believer in it. You should keep it, I can tell your life is going to get a lot more dangerous now that you're claimed," Luke said with a somber smile.

* * *

In the month I'd been gone, the apartment had turned into Gabeland. Garbage was ankle deep on the carpet. The sofa had been reupholstered in beer cans. Dirty socks and underwear hung off the lampshades.

Gabe and three of his big goony friends were playing poker at the table.

When Gabe saw me, his cigar dropped out of his mouth. His face got redder than lava. "You got nerve coming here, you little punk. I thought the police—"

"He's not a fugitive after all," my mom interjected. "Isn't that wonderful, Gabe?"

Gabe looked back and forth between us. He didn't seem to think my homecoming was so wonderful.

"Bad enough I had to give back your life insurance money, Sally," he growled.

"Get me the phone. I'll call the cops."

"Gabe, no!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Did you just say _'no'? _You think I'm gonna put up with this punk again? I can still press charges against him for ruining my Camaro."

"But—"

He raised his hand, and my mother flinched.

For the first time, I realized something. Gabe had hit my mother.

I didn't know when, or how much. But I was sure he'd done it. Maybe _it _had been going on for years, when I wasn't around.

A balloon of anger started expanding in my chest. I came toward Gabe, instinctively taking my pen out of my pocket.

He just laughed. "What, punk? You gonna write on me? You touch me, and you are going to jail forever, you understand?"

"Hey, Gabe," his friend Eddie interrupted. "He's just a kid."

Gabe looked at him resentfully and mimicked in a falsetto voice: _"Just a kid."_

* * *

"Ugh, don't remind me," I groaned as I tossed myself onto the closets bed. "I'm _just a kid_. I'm not ready for this!"

"Yeah you are," Luke said as he sat by me. "You're a kid, but you're a demigod. If you haven't noticed, we can do anything. We could tear Olympus to the ground if we wanted to, or build it back up."

"Sounds fun," I muttered as I thought back to the drawing. All that evil. Well, villans do have fun here and there. "I wonder what would happen if we did that. Tore down Olympus, then built it however we wanted."

"Not sure. But I guess it doesn't matter right now. We don't exactly have an army or anything."

"Guess not. But the gods, like Poseidon, really should be knocked down a peg or a hundred. How could he just act like I'm not there and call me a wrongdoing? I swear I'd like to take that Trident and shove it through his neck."

"Ah don't we all wanna do that to our parents. The gods really should have just faded with Greece."

"Would have made life a lot simpler," I agreed. "I've gotta go back to cabin three and tidy up. I'll see you at dinner."

Then I got up and left cabin eleven, hatred burning in my heart.

* * *

His other friends laughed like idiots.

"I'll be nice to you, punk." Gabe showed me his tobacco-stained teeth. "I'll give you five minutes to get your stuff and clear out. After that, I call the police."

"Gabe!" my mother pleaded.

"He ran away," Gabe told her. "Let him stay gone."

I was itching to uncap Riptide, but even if I did, the blade wouldn't hurt humans. And Gabe, by the loosest definition, was human.

My mother took my arm. "Please, Percy. Come on. We'll go to your room."

I let her pull me away, my hands still trembling with rage.

* * *

When I got back to my cabin I went to the bathroom and took a well-earned shower before I gorged myself on a stash of cheese doodles and orange juice I had. Don't ask me why, but I love orange food and drinks. I walked over to my bed and sat down before jumping up again and knocking over one of my bags of cheese doodles. Something had stabbed my thigh.

I looked at my bed to see a glowing bronze dagger, the tip covered in a dot of blood.

"No way," I breathed as I picked up the dagger. Looking at it, I found there was no mistaking it. This was the dagger I'd been given while Luca died. This was _his _dagger. The dagger I'd lost on the St. Louis Arch.

_You shall find something in your cabin upon your return. It does not make up for all that has happened, but I hope it makes you happier then you are now._

No. he couldn't have. He wouldn't. He doesn't care. I … I know he doesn't … He … he's a god … the gods don't care … but …

"Why can't you let me just hate you?!" I screamed at the ceiling.

_Maybe because I care. You are a true daughter of the Sea God. _I sighed as I heard his voice in my head. Of course. Leave it to dad to bribe somebody into thinking he cares.

But he couldn't have known how much that dagger meant to me unless … he's been watching me. He's been watching me this whole time. I looked at the dagger and smiled.

"Fine. Maybe you do care. But … next time … don't let somebody else I love die. But, thank you … father."

You don't know how hard it is to say those words.

* * *

My room had been completely filled with Gabe's junk. I here were stacks of used car batteries, a rotting bouquet of sympathy flowers with a card from somebody who'd seen his Barbara Walters interview.

"Gabe is just upset, honey," my mother told me. "I'll talk to him later. I'm sure it will work out."

"Mom, it'll never work out. Not as long as Gabe's here."

She wrung her hands nervously. "I can ... I'll take you to work with me for the rest of the summer. In the fall, maybe there's another boarding school—"

"Mom."

She lowered her eyes. "I'm trying, Percy. I just... I need some time."

A package appeared on my bed. At least, I could've sworn it hadn't been there a moment before.

It was a battered cardboard box about the right size to fit a basketball. The address on the mailing slip was in my own handwriting:

_The Gods_

_MountOlympus_

_600th Floor,_

_EmpireState Building_

_New York, NY_

_With best wishes,_

_PERCY JACKSON_

Over the top in black marker, in a man's clear, bold print, was the address of our apartment, and the words: RETURN TO SENDER.

Suddenly I understood what Poseidon had told me on Olympus.

A package. A decision.

_Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the Sea God._

I looked at my mother. "Mom, do you want Gabe gone?"

"Percy, it isn't that simple. I—"

"Mom, just tell me. That jerk has been hitting you. Do you want him gone or not?"

She hesitated, then nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes, Percy. I do. And I'm trying to get up my courage to tell him. But you can't do this for me. You can't solve my problems."

I looked at the box.

I _could _solve her problem. I wanted to slice that package open, plop it on the poker table, and take out what was inside. I could start my very own statue garden, right there in the living room.

That's what a Greek hero would do in the stories, I thought. That's what Gabe deserves.

But a hero's story always ended in tragedy. Poseidon had told me that.

I remembered the Underworld. I thought about Gabe's spirit drifting forever in the Fields of Asphodel, or condemned to some hideous torture behind the barbed wire of the Fields of Punishment—an eternal poker game, sitting up to his waist in boiling oil listening to opera music. Did I have the right to send someone there? Even Gabe?

A month ago, I wouldn't have hesitated. Now ...

"I can do it," I told my mom. "One look inside this box, and he'll never bother you again."

She glanced at the package, and seemed to understand immediately. "No, Percy," she said, stepping away. "You can't."

"Poseidon called you a queen," I told her. "He said he hadn't met a woman like you in a thousand years."

Her cheeks flushed. "Percy—"

"You deserve better than this, Mom. You should go to college, get your degree. You can write your novel, meet a nice guy maybe, live in a nice house. You don't need to protect me anymore by staying with Gabe. Let me get rid of him."

She wiped a tear off her cheek. "You sound so much like your father," she said. "He offered to stop the tide for me once. He offered to build me a palace at the bottom of the sea.

He thought he could solve all my problems with a wave of his hand."

"What's wrong with that?"

Her multicolored eyes seemed to search inside me. "I think you know, Percy. I think you're enough like me to understand. If my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself. I can't let a god take care of me ... or my son. I have to ... find the courage on my own. Your quest has reminded me of that."

We listened to the sound of poker chips and swearing, ESPN from the living room television.

"I'll leave the box," I said. "If he threatens you …"

She looked pale, but she nodded. "Where will you go, Percy?"

"Half-Blood Hill."

"For the summer ... or forever?"

"I guess that depends."

We locked eyes, and I sensed that we had an agreement. We would see how things stood at the end of the summer.

She kissed my forehead. "You'll be a hero, Percy. You'll be the greatest of all."

I took one last look around my bedroom. I had a feeling I'd never see it again. Then I walked with my mother to the front door.

"Leaving so soon, punk?" Gabe called after me. "Good riddance."

I had one last twinge of doubt. How could I turn down the perfect chance to take revenge on him? I was leaving here without saving my mother.

"Hey, Sally," he yelled. "What about that meat loaf, huh?"

A steely look of anger flared in my mother's eyes, and I thought, just maybe, I was leaving her in good hands after all. Her own.

"The meat loaf is coming right up, dear," she told Gabe. "Meat loaf surprise."

She looked at me, and winked.

* * *

I smiled. So, maybe my parents weren't as bad as I thought.

Maybe Olympus didn't need tearing down. Not in my lifetime anyway.

But I'm still staying year round at camp. I guess I'll only see Percy for three months a year. But I guess it's better than nothing.

So with a smile, I slid the dagger into its sheath, belted the sheath around my waist, and walked out of my cabin.

* * *

The last thing I saw as the door swung closed was my mother staring at Gabe, as if she were contemplating how he would look as a garden statue.

* * *

**Woah, One Chapter Left. Then The Lightning Theif is over and done with. Woah, never though _I'd _finish a story. Wow. So yeah, I'll be back. Um, anyone else think Mari is bipolar or something? Like whoa girl. So last chapter of this story. Wow. I just hope you guys liked the story.**

**Review?**

**~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis**


	23. Chapter 22 Last Chapter

Hey. I'm back. Um, this is the last chapter of the story. I'm kind of in shock. I just hope this was a good story. We had a good run.

I**f** y**o**u **s**e**e** w**r**i**t**i**n**g like that it means it's being seen by both siblings.

Happy reading.

Dedicated to Percy and Marisol Jackson.

* * *

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief**

**The Prophecy Comes True**

* * *

We were the first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke, so of course everybody treated us as if we'd won some reality-TV contest.

According to camp tradition, we wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Annabeth's shroud was so beautiful—gray silk with embroidered owls—I told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it.

She punched me and told me to shut up.

Mari's shroud was made by all of the cabins working together. Apparently my sister really has high standing at this camp.

* * *

So, I kind of wish I didn't have to burn my shroud without being in it. Like, dude! It was the awesomest shroud _ever! _All yarn. All soft and warm and burnable. Aw why couldn't I have died! This would have been so cool to be buried innnnnn!

* * *

Her shroud was made of yarn in different greens and blues. I noticed that within its patterning the words _Camper of All Cabins_ were inscribed in orange, for the camp's color. When I asked why her shroud was made of yarn she just grinned and said her favorite blanket was made of yarn and she likes sleeping in it. So if she were to sleep forever, it might as well be in a blanket. She seemed really bummed that she couldn't be burned in it.

Yeah, my sister's crazy. She's still my sister though.

Being the son of Poseidon having gone on a death quest with the only other Poseidon kid―Mari, I didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make my shroud. They'd taken an old bed sheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle.

It was fun to burn.

As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out s'mores, I was surrounded by my sister, my old Hermes cabin mates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand-new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past."

The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabin mates, whose poisonous looks told me they'd never forgive me for disgracing their dad.

That was okay with me.

Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brat didn't get himself killed and now he'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be _no _canoe races this Saturday..."

* * *

I was only a little bit surprised to see Percy back. I figured he'd like to stay with him mom after all that he went through trying to get her back.

I was actually moving myself back into the Hermes cabin because I didn't want to stay in the Poseidon cabin on my own. It wouldn't be the same without my big brother. Luke helped me move my stuff _back_ to cabin three, and I gave Percy a proper welcome home.

I doused him in buckets of ice.

Long story short, it sort of went like this:

_"Hey! What's with all the ice?" Percy shrieked as he jumped around trying to get it out of his shirt._

_"Next time you decide to not leave me all alone at camp, CALL FIRST SO THAT I DON'T START MOVING BACK TO THE HERMES CABIN!"_

_"Love you too sis," Percy said with a roll of the eyes and a grin. Tackling him in a hug I knew he got the message that I loved him too. After all, twins gotta stick together man._

* * *

I moved back into cabin three, but it didn't feel so lonely anymore. I had my friends to train with during the day. At night, I lay awake with my little sister and we'd listened to the sea, knowing our father was out there. Maybe he wasn't quite sure about either of us yet, maybe he hadn't even wanted us born, but he was watching. And so far, he was proud of what we'd done. Mari wasn't too mad at him either. That dagger really lifted her spirits.

As for my mother, she had a chance at a new life. Her letter arrived a week after I got back to camp. She told me Gabe had left mysteriously—disappeared off the face of the planet, in fact. She'd reported him missing to the police, but she had a funny feeling they would never find him.

On a completely unrelated subject, she'd sold her first life-size concrete sculpture, entitled _The Poker Player, _to a collector, through an art gallery in Soho.

She'd gotten so much money for it, she'd put a deposit down on a new apartment and made a payment on her first semester's tuition at NYU. The Soho gallery was clamoring for more of her work, which they called "a huge step forward in super-ugly neorealism."

_Go Sally, go Sally, it's your birthday, we're gonna party like it's your birthday, had been Mari's response as she did something called the inbetweeners dance. She had read the letter with me._

_But don't worry, _my mom wrote. _I'm done with sculpture. I've disposed of that box of tools you left me. It's time for me to turn to writing._

At the bottom, she wrote a P.S.: _Percy, I've found a good private school here in the city. I've put a deposit down to hold you a spot, in case you want to enroll for seventh grade. You could live at home. Of course Mari can come too. But if you want to go year-round at Half-Blood Hill, I'll understand._

I folded the note carefully and set it on my bedside table. Every night before I went to sleep, I read it again, and I tried to decide how to answer her.

My sister seemed to do the same thing. She'd gotten a letter too.

* * *

I was actually so stunned to get a letter from my mom that I screamed and dropped it the day it came. I guess I just figured she'd leave me be at camp, like she had all those years ago. The thing is, I wasn't angry when I got the letter. I was actually nervous, but happy.

Here's what it said:

_Dear Marisol,_

_ I know it's been years since you last saw me. I know you probably don't see me as a mother. Sweetie, know that I love you and I did it for the best. I hope you and your brother get along, and that you're safe._

_ All these years I've been thinking of you, waiting for the day we'd meet again. Maybe we won't, but sweetie it's up to you. I get it if you don't want to see me. Just know that I love you._

_With Love_

_~Mom_

_P.S. If ever you need a place to stay out in the real world, don't be afraid to come home. I will always have a place waiting for you. I think you and Percy deserve to live like normal siblings. Together. With me. _

Then the address of her new place was scribbled at the bottom.

It wasn't much, just some rambling I guess. I let Percy read the letter for himself and he gave me a look of its-up-to-you.

So we ended up talking about it. Maybe we weren't ready to be _normal_ _siblings_. My home was at camp. Percy and, as it seems, Sally understand that. So it really was up to me. Was I going to be like Annabeth and stay away from a family that hadn't wanted me? Or was I going to give it a shot?

Well, I wasn't deciding anytime soon.

* * *

On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles. According to Annabeth, who'd seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors.

* * *

I probably should have spent the fireworks with Percy, just us, since we had just met again after all these years. Percy and I had different ideas though. We'd both been invited to hang with different people down at the beach, so twin time was put on hold. After all, Percy and I had the rest of the summer and, if he stayed or we went, the rest of the year together.

So I got dressed in some jean shorts, my camp t, my dagger on its sheath around my waist (it's always with me―I AM NOT LOSING IT EVER AGAIN, and it goes great with my camp clothes), my converse, and I put my hair into a ponytail with my bangs framing the side of my face. I only ever put my hair up for special occasions, like these.

I gave my brother a hug before heading out of the cabin and over to the Apollo cabin. I knocked once before the door opened and Blaze Solace grinned at me. We hung out for a bit before I left the cabin and headed down to the beach with her brother, Will. I smirked as we saw Annabeth head over to my cabin, then leaving it with Percy and some picnic stuff. Do I see a date?

Will and I headed over to the beach and set up my yarn blanket on some rocks in the water when Grover came by.

"Hey Grover," I grinned as I walked off the rocks and onto the sand. I gave him a big hug before looking at him. He had gotten older looking, but it didn't really matter. He was still my goat-bestie. What did matter is that he was equipped to leave.

"It's time for me to go out and search," he said to me. I blinked back the tears that had suddenly clouded my vision and I nodded. I knew how important this was to him. I gave him a quivering smile before pulling something out of my pocket.

"For you," I said as I handed him the necklace. "Remember me while you're out searching for Pan alright?"

He smiled at me before sliding it on and hugging me again. The necklace had a green stone that looked like a tree top, but in the center you could see that there was clear water flowing inside. It had taken a week to put together, and Charlie had to help me with it, but the meaning was easy enough to see. I would miss my BGF. After all, not everybody gets to have a Best Goat Friend like Grover Underwood.

"It's going to take time, but I have to find him," Grover said with that fierce determination only a Satyr could have. I nodded and tried to keep the bad thoughts away.

_Everybody I care about dies out in the real world. Some monster always gets them, whether it be Manticores, or Fate. They always die, _my mind said.

_Shut up_, I told it.

"Grover you'd better come back or I swear to every god out there I'll―"

"Don't worry shorty, I will."

He gave me one last hug before he did the most embarrassing thing anybody could ever do.

"You'd better take care of her Solace or when I get back you'd better be ready to taste hoof!"

I pretty much died of embarrassment there and then. With a laugh I bade Grover goodbye before rejoining my … date.

I swear if anybody makes anymore comments they're going to get so soaked by some waves even their grandkids will cough up salt water.

* * *

As Annabeth and I were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell us good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his Rasta cap all the time to pass as human.

"I'm off," he said. "I just came to say ... well, you know."

I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn't every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying good-bye. I'd only known Grover a year, yet he was my oldest friend.

Annabeth gave him a hug. She told him to keep his fake feet on.

I asked him where he was going to search first.

"Kind of a secret," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan …"

"We understand," Annabeth said. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?"

"Yeah."

"And you remembered your reed pipes?"

"Jeez, Annabeth," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat."

But he didn't really sound annoyed.

He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway—nothing like the little runty boy I used to defend from bullies at Yancy Academy.

"Well," he said, "wish me luck."

He gave Annabeth another hug. He clapped me on the shoulder, then headed back through the dunes.

Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington (who, by the way, was a son of Athena) crossing the Delaware.

"Hey, Grover," I called.

He turned at the edge of the woods.

"Wherever you're going—I hope they make good enchiladas."

Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him.

"We'll see him again," Annabeth said.

I tried to believe it. The fact that no searcher had ever come back in two thousand years ... well, I decided not to think about that. Grover would be the first. He had to be.

July passed.

I spent my days devising new strategies for capture-the-flag and making alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares's hands.

I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time without getting scorched by lava.

* * *

July was actually really fun. I got to see my brother freak out while trying to avoid death-by-lava on the climbing wall, I got to hang out with him and get to know him better, I started dating Will Solace, I got to make battle plans with Percy, got to work with Charlie in the forge, and I got to be with Blaze. I spent time with Luke, Annabeth, avoided the Stolls and their teasing, got to hang out with Clarisse and members of other cabins. July was a lot more eventful than August.

* * *

From time to time, I'd walk past the Big House, glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle. I tried to convince myself that its prophecy had come to completion.

_You shall go west, and face the god who has turned._

Been there, done that—even though the traitor god had turned out to be Ares rather than Hades.

_You shall find what was stolen, and see it safe returned._

Check. One master bolt delivered. One helm of darkness back on Hades's oily head.

_You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend._

Again the mood got surly at this.

This line still bothered me. Ares had pretended to be my friend, then betrayed me. That must be what the Oracle meant...

_And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end._

I _had _failed to save my mom, but only because I'd let her save herself, and I knew that was the right thing.

So why was I still uneasy?

The last night of the summer session came all too quickly.

The campers had one last meal together. We burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads.

I got my own leather necklace, and when I saw the bead for my first summer, I was glad the firelight covered my blushing. The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

"The choice was unanimous," Luke announced. "This bead commemorates the first Son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!"

The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. Even Ares's cabin felt obliged to stand. Athena's cabin steered Annabeth to the front so she could share in the applause. I dragged my sister up and stood her near me.

* * *

My bead was different from Percy's but only by a little bit. His bead had a trident. Mine had the lightning bolt. Why?

It's what brought me and Percy together and, the Unclaimed No-Name Longest Camper, getting claimed as well as finding her twin brother with whom she went on a quest with is a big deal. The electrifying lightning bolt was set against a sea-green background and I had to admit, this was definitely the coolest bead I would ever get.

* * *

I'm not sure I'd ever felt as happy or sad as I did at that moment. I'd finally found a family, people who cared about me and thought I'd done something right. And in the morning, most of them would be leaving for the year.

The next morning, I found a form letter on my bedside table.

I knew Dionysus must've filled it out, because he stubbornly insisted on getting my name wrong:

_D**e**a**r**__Peter **J**o**h**n**s**o**n**___,_

**_If you intend to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, you must inform the Big House by noon today._**_ If you do not announce your intentions, we will assume you have vacated your cabin or died a horrible death. Cleaning harpies will begin work at sundown. **They will be authorized to eat any unregistered campers. All personal articles left behind will be incinerated in the lava pit.**_

_Have a nice day!_

_Mr. D (Dionysus)_

_Camp Director, Olympian Council #12_

That's another thing about ADHD. Deadlines just aren't real to me until I'm staring one in the face.

Summer was over, and I still hadn't answered my mother, or the camp, about whether I'd be staying. Now I had only a few hours to decide.

The decision should have been easy. I mean, nine months of hero training or nine months of sitting in a classroom—duh.

Nine months with my new sister or nine months at a new school of bullies―double-duh.

But there was my mom to consider. For the first time, I had the chance to live with her for a whole year, without Gabe. I had a chance be at home and knock around the city in my free time. I remembered what Annabeth had said so long ago on our quest: _The real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not._

I thought about the fate of Thalia, daughter of Zeus. I wondered how many monsters would attack me if I left Half-Blood Hill. If I stayed in one place for a whole school year, without Chiron or my friends around to help me, would my mother and I even survive until the next summer?

That was assuming the spelling tests and five-paragraph essays didn't kill me. I decided I'd go down to the arena and do some sword practice. Maybe that would clear my head.

The campgrounds were mostly deserted, shimmering in the August heat. All the campers were in their cabins packing up, or running around with brooms and mops, getting ready for final inspection. Argus was helping some of the Aphrodite kids haul their Gucci suitcases and makeup kits over the hill, where the camp's shuttle bus would be waiting to take them to the airport.

Don't think about leaving yet, I told myself. Just train.

I got to the sword-fighters arena and found that Luke had had the same idea. His gym bag was plopped at the edge of the stage. He was working solo, whaling on battle dummies with a sword I'd never seen before. It must've been a regular steel blade, because he was slashing the dummies' heads right off, stabbing through their straw-stuffed guts. His orange counselor's shirt was dripping with sweat. His expression was so intense; his life might've really been in danger.

I watched, fascinated, as he disemboweled the whole row of dummies, hacking off limbs and basically reducing them to a pile of straw and armor.

They were only dummies, but I still couldn't help being awed by Luke's skill. The guy was an incredible fighter. It made me wonder, again, how he possibly could've failed at his quest.

Finally, he saw me, and stopped mid-swing. "Percy."

* * *

I sighed as I finished reading the note Mr. D left me. I hadn't gotten one of these since the year that Sammi left. I was supposed to go with her, but I decided to stay at camp. Then I ran away, met Thals, Luke, and Annie, and well, life happened. I guess Percy being here means that there was somebody else who could take me home with them.

I sighed as I picked up the note and tossed it into the trash. I got out of bed and headed over to the big house. I just hoped Percy would do the same.

* * *

"Um, sorry," I said, embarrassed. "I just—"

"It's okay," he said, lowering his sword. "Just doing some last-minute practice."

"Those dummies won't be bothering anybody anymore."

Luke shrugged. "We build new ones every summer."

Now that his sword wasn't swirling around, I could see something odd about it. The blade was two different types of metal—one edge bronze, the other steel.

Luke noticed me looking at it. "Oh, this? New toy. This is Backbiter."

"Backbiter?"

Luke turned the blade in the light so it glinted wickedly. "One side is celestial bronze. The other is tempered steel. Works on mortals and immortals both."

I thought about what Chiron had told me when I started my quest—that a hero should never harm mortals unless absolutely necessary.

"I didn't know they could make weapons like that."

_"They _probably can't," Luke agreed. "It's one of a kind."

He gave me a tiny smile, then slid the sword into its scabbard. "Listen, I was going to come looking for you. What do you say we go down to the woods one last time, look for something to fight?"

I don't know why I hesitated.

I should've felt relieved that Luke was being so friendly. Ever since I'd gotten back from the quest, he'd been acting a little distant. I was afraid he might resent me for all the attention I'd gotten.

"You think it's a good idea?" I asked. "I mean—"

"Aw, come on." He rummaged in his gym bag and pulled out a six-pack of Cokes. "Drinks are on me."

I stared at the Cokes, wondering where the heck he'd gotten them. There were no regular mortal sodas at the camp store. No way to smuggle them in unless you talked to a satyr, maybe.

Of course, the magic dinner goblets would fill with anything you want, but it just didn't taste the same as a real Coke, straight out of the can.

Sugar and caffeine. My willpower crumbled.

* * *

I ran into Will on my way out of the Big House and he grinned at me.

"Staying year-round I hope," he said as I turned and walked back into the Big House with him.

"Yeah," I sighed. I felt totally drained from my talk with Chiron from just a few minutes earlier.

"What's wrong Mari?" Will asked as his arm went around my shoulders. Will was fifteen, about a year and a half older than me, and maybe five inches taller than me. I sighed as I leaned into him and waited for Chiron to step out of his office so Will could talk to him about staying.

"I don't think Percy's going to stay with me. I think he's going to go home to his mom," I said as we sat on the floor with our backs to the wall.

"I thought you made peace with your mom, didn't you write back to her?" he asked as he gave my shoulders a small squeeze.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I told her that I missed her and I'd think about it, but I don't think that's making peace if I'm staying. I just worry about them. Percy's scent is going to get _a lot_ of  
attention and I'm scared for him," I said as my voice cracked a bit.

"He's a tough guy Mari. I mean, he's your brother. He came back from the lightning thief quest. I think he can make it in the real world, he's been living there his entire life."

"Yeah but, I mean, he's going to be out in the real world. I mean, ugh I don't know how to explain!" I cried as I rested my head on his shoulder and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Try," he said gently. Yes, my boyfriend is a nice guy, and I can assure you: Nice guys don't finish last.

"Well, it's just that everybody I love has been killed somewhere in the real world. I don't want to add my big brother to that list. I can't imagine having to hear that … that … I wouldn't be able to take it if somebody else I loved was killed."

Crying to your boyfriend is actually really helpful. Especially when you'd never want to cry in front of anybody else. But my point is: I really worry that I might not see my brother again. Lightning thief smightning smief! He's still a demigod and all demigods are in constant danger in the real world.

"He's going to be alright. Have a little more faith in him Mari. I think he's earned it," Will said. I nodded and hastily brushed away my tears remembering that I am Marisol. I _don't _cry.

"Ah, Will. Come to make your year-round arrangements?" Chiron asked as he exited his office with Clarisse.

"Yeah, one second please?" He asked. When Chiron nodded we stood and Will smiled at me. "I suggest you take a walk, get some air. I'll visit you at your cabin later okay?"

I nodded before letting Will steer me to wherever. He gave me a quick kiss before walking me out of the Big House, then rushing back to Chiron.

* * *

"Sure," I decided. "Why not?"

We walked down to the woods and kicked around for some kind of monster to fight, but it was too hot. All the monsters with any sense must've been taking siestas in their nice cool caves.

We found a shady spot by the creek where I'd broken Clarisse's spear during my first capture the flag game. We sat on a big rock, drank our Cokes, and watched the sunlight in the woods.

After a while Luke said, "You miss being on a quest?"

"With monsters attacking me every three feet? Are you kidding?"

Luke raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I miss it," I admitted. "You?"

A shadow passed over his face.

I was used to hearing from the girls how good-looking Luke was, but at the moment, he looked weary, and angry, and not at all handsome. His blond hair was gray in the sunlight. The scar on his face looked deeper than usual. I could imagine him as an old man.

"I've lived at Half-Blood Hill year-round since I was fourteen," he told me. "Ever since Thalia ... well, you know. I trained, and trained, and trained. I never got to be a normal teenager, out there in the real world. Then they threw me one quest, and when I came back, it was like, 'Okay, ride's over. Have a nice life.'"

He crumpled his Coke can and threw into the creek, which really shocked me. One of the first things you learn at Camp Half-Blood is: Don't litter. You'll hear from the nymphs and the naiads. They'll get even. You'll crawl into bed one night and find your sheets filled with centipedes and mud.

"The heck with laurel wreaths," Luke said. "I'm not going to end up like those dusty trophies in the Big House attic."

"You make it sound like you're leaving."

Luke gave me a twisted smile. "Oh, I'm leaving, all right, Percy. I brought you down here to say good-bye."

He snapped his fingers. A small fire burned a hole in the ground at my feet. Out crawled something glistening black, about the size of my hand. A scorpion.

I started to go for my pen.

"I wouldn't," Luke cautioned. "Pit scorpions can jump up to fifteen feet. Its stinger can pierce right through your clothes. You'll be dead in sixty seconds."

"Luke, what—"

Then it hit me.

_You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend._

"You," I said.

He stood calmly and brushed off his jeans.

The scorpion paid him no attention. It kept its beady black eyes on me, clamping its pincers as it crawled onto my shoe.

"I saw a lot out there in the world, Percy," Luke said. "Didn't you feel it—the darkness gathering, the monsters growing stronger? Didn't you realize how useless it all is? All the heroics—being pawns of the gods. They should've been overthrown thousands of years ago, but they've hung on, thanks to us half-bloods."

I couldn't believe this was happening.

"Luke ... you're talking about our parents," I said.

He laughed. "That's supposed to make me love them? Their precious 'Western civilization' is a disease, Percy. It's killing the world. The only way to stop it is to burn it to the ground, start over with something more honest."

"You're as crazy as Ares."

His eyes flared. "Ares is a fool. He never realized the true master he was serving. If I had time, Percy, I could explain. But I'm afraid you won't live that long."

The scorpion crawled onto my pants leg.

There had to be a way out of this. I needed time to think.

"Kronos," I said. "That's who you serve."

The air got colder.

"You should be careful with names," Luke warned.

"Kronos got you to steal the master bolt and the helm. He spoke to you in your dreams."

Luke's eye twitched. "He spoke to you, too, Percy. You should've listened."

"He's brainwashing you, Luke."

"You're wrong. He showed me that my talents are being wasted. You know what my quest was two years ago, Percy? My father, Hermes, wanted me to steal a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides and return it to Olympus. After all the training I'd done, _that _was the best he could think up."

"That's not an easy quest," I said. "Hercules did it."

"Exactly," Luke said. "Where's the glory in repeating what others have done? All the gods know how to do is replay their past. My heart wasn't in it. The dragon in the garden gave me this"—he pointed angrily at his scar—"and when I came back, all I got was pity. I wanted to pull Olympus down stone by stone right then, but I bided my time. I began to dream of Kronos. He convinced me to steal something worthwhile, something no hero had ever had the courage to take. When we went on that winter-solstice field trip, while the other campers were asleep, I snuck into the throne room and took Zeus's master bolt right from his chair. Hades's helm of darkness, too. You wouldn't believe how easy it was. The Olympians are so arrogant; they never dreamed someone would dare steal from them. Their security is horrible. I was halfway across New Jersey before I heard the storms rumbling, and I knew they'd discovered my theft."

The scorpion was sitting on my knee now, staring at me with its glittering eyes. I tried to keep my voice level. "So why didn't you bring the items to Kronos?"

Luke's smile wavered. "I ... I got overconfident. Zeus sent out his sons and daughters to find the stolen bolt— Artemis, Apollo, my father, Hermes. But it was Ares who caught me. I could have beaten him, but I wasn't careful enough. He disarmed me, took the items of power, threatened to return them to Olympus and burn me alive. Then Kronos's voice came to me and told me what to say. I put the idea in Ares's head about a great war between the gods. I said all he had to do was hide the items away for a while and watch the others fight. Ares got a wicked gleam in his eyes. I knew he was hooked. He let me go, and I returned to Olympus before anyone noticed my absence." Luke drew his new sword. He ran his thumb down the flat of the blade, as if he were hypnotized by its beauty.

"Afterward, the Lord of the Titans ... h-he punished me with nightmares. I swore not to fail again. Back at Camp Half-Blood, in my dreams, I was told that a second hero would arrive, one who could be tricked into taking the bolt and the helm the rest of the way—from Ares down to Tartarus."

"_You _summoned the hellhounds, that night in the forest."

"We had to make Chiron think the camp wasn't safe for you, so he would start you on your quest. We had to confirm his fears that Hades was after you. And it worked."

"But what about my sister? Isn't she your friend?" I yelled. I really hoped mentioning my sister got her attention and she'd go for some help. _*Mari where are you?* _I thought in frustration. Luke's eye twitched again and he absentmindedly touched his wrist.

"She's like a sister to me. Before you came along _I _was her big brother. She and I share the same ideas, Percy. After you're gone I'm off to tell her where we're going. She won't miss you much," Luke said as he shrugged.

"The flying shoes were cursed," I said. "They were supposed to drag me and the backpack into Tartarus."

"And they would have, if you'd been wearing them. But you gave them to the satyr, which wasn't part of the plan. Grover messes up everything he touches. He even confused the curse."

Luke looked down at the scorpion, which was now sit ting on my thigh. "You should have died in Tartarus, Percy. But don't worry, I'll leave you with my little friend to set things right."

"Thalia gave her life to save you," I said, gritting my teeth. "And this is how you repay her?"

"Don't speak of Thalia!" he shouted. "The gods _let _her die! That's one of the many things they will pay for."

"You're being used, Luke. You and Ares both. Don't listen to Kronos."

_"I've _been used?" Luke's voice turned shrill. "Look at yourself. What has your dad ever done for you? What has ever done for Mari besides let her cry every night about her parents that never cared? Kronos will rise. You've only delayed his plans. He will cast the Olympians into Tartarus and drive humanity back to their caves. All except the strongest—the ones who serve him."

"Call off the bug," I said. "If you're so strong, fight me yourself"

Luke smiled. "Nice try, Percy. But I'm not Ares. You can't bait me. My lord is waiting, and he's got plenty of quests for me to undertake."

"Luke—"

"Good-bye, Percy. There is a new Golden Age coming. You won't be part of it."

He slashed his sword in an arc and disappeared in a ripple of darkness.

* * *

I had been by the beach thinking over the fourth of July. Yeah, that's when I'd gotten my first boyfriend. Where I found some piece of mind. Where I got to keep an eye on my big brother and best friend. Where I noticed Blaze doing the same thing over me and Will.

Yeah, the fireworks had been great.

I looked back at the first birthday I'd spent with Percy, and how he'd gotten us a completely blue cake. My brother is crazy over blue, but he's my brother so I love him anyway.

I was shaken from my thoughts when Luke appeared in front of me and I felt like I was going to faint.

"H-hey Luke. Ready for the fall?" I asked as I steadied myself on some rocks. Luke hesitated before he put his arm around my shoulders and began steering me away from the beach.

"Let's head over to cabin eleven and talk," he said easily.

"Sure," I decided. "Why not?"

The walk back was eerily silent and the closer we got to my old cabin, the more I felt ready to pass out and never wake up.

"Mari, remember what we talked about? About tearing down Olympus and rebuilding it how we want?" he asked as I sat on my old bed.

"Uh, yeah. What about it?" I asked as my head spun. Black spots danced before my eyes and I decided that I'd have to rest after this.

"Well, let's do it. Those gods deserve it," Luke growled out the last bit. I was so startled that even my vision cleared just to see a devilish look on his face.

"W-what are you talking about? No they don't! Not all of them," I defended them.

"Mari, what have they ever done for us? You know, besides let monsters chase us, Thalia die, and everybody you love die," he said coldly.

"But Luke, I mean, things have changed!" I was fumbling for words as my mind scrambled to understand. "We would need an army, we'd need to hate the gods. Luke, I don't hate them. I can't just leave behind my brother, and Will, and everybody else just to try and pick apart the gods. What about my dad?"

"What about him? What happened to _I'd like to take his trident and shove it through his throat_? Poseidon doesn't deserve a thing from you. Don't you remember how you used to cry to me every night about how your parents didn't want you? Remember how we said we'd stick together?" Luke yelled, outraged and desperate. He didn't even let me answer. "Well, Kronos is rising and I'm joining him. Come with me. Leave all of these madmen behind. Join the winning side."

"Luke …You said … you said you'd never leave me like they did. You can't just go to Kronos. H-he's using you. He wants us to hate the gods. Luke, he almost killed my brother. I can't just―"

"I thought I was your brother," Luke shot. The words cut me like knives.

"Of course you are! But Luke―"

"Then come with me. Trade in the old dagger for a new and improved one," Luke said. He extended his arm and in his hand was a gleaming, double edged dagger. One edge was Celestial Bronze, the other Tempered Steel. He handed it to me, hilt first, and I shivered at how familiar the evil dagger felt in my hand.

"Luke … I wasn't made for this. I can't leave them behind, not after everybody that has left me. Luke, stay with us, please?" I begged, tossing the dagger onto the bed and springing up. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and tugged. "You can't join him. Please don't."

"If you weren't made for this, would you really have gone down to Bunker Eleven and used a bunch of knives to make a scythe, the symbol of Kronos?" Luke challenged. I flinched and clutched the golden locket around my neck.

* * *

The scorpion lunged.

I swatted it away with my hand and uncapped my sword. The thing jumped at me and I cut it in half in midair.

I was about to congratulate myself until I looked down at my hand. My palm had a huge red welt, oozing and smoking with yellow guck. The thing had gotten me after all.

My ears pounded. My vision went foggy. The water, I thought. It healed me before.

I stumbled to the creek and submerged my hand, but nothing seemed to happen. The poison was too strong. My vision was getting dark. I could barely stand up.

_Sixty seconds, _Luke had told me.

I had to get back to camp. If I collapsed out here, my body would be dinner for a monster. Nobody would ever know what had happened.

My legs felt like lead. My forehead was burning. I stumbled toward the camp, and the nymphs stirred from their trees.

"Help," I croaked. "Please ..."

Two of them took my arms, pulling me along. I remember making it to the clearing, a counselor shouting for help, a centaur blowing a conch horn.

* * *

"It was an accident. I-I didn't meant to," I stuttered.

Luke shook his head and growled, "You know that's not true."

"Luke please! You promised―"

"I'm sorry, but I'm going. I've already eliminated the Prophecy child, so I don't have to kill you. Next time we meet, things will be different. I'm sorry squirt." He gave me a hug, pain exploded in me, and then everything went black.

* * *

Then everything went black.

I woke with a drinking straw in my mouth. I was sipping something that tasted like liquid chocolate-chip cookies.

Nectar.

I opened my eyes.

I was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the Big House, my right hand bandaged like a club. Argus stood guard in the corner. Annabeth sat next to me, holding my nectar glass and dabbing a washcloth on my forehead.

"Here we are again," I said.

"You idiot," Annabeth said, which is how I knew she was overjoyed to see me conscious.

"You were green and turning gray when we found you. If it weren't for Chiron's healing ..."

"Now, now," Chiron's voice said. "Percy's constitution deserves some of the credit."

He was sitting near the foot of my bed in human form, which was why I hadn't noticed him yet. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he'd been up all night grading Latin papers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved."

"Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened."

Between sips of nectar, I told them the story.

The room was quiet for a long time. Then I remembered something.

"Where's my sister?" I nearly screamed, fumbling to get out of bed. They had to hold me down, which wasn't too hard I bet.

"Will is out looking for her. When the nymphs brought you we were just leaving my office. He figured whoever hurt you must have gone after her as well and he went rushing off."

As if on cue the door opened and Will came in, my sister in his arms. What made me panic was that she was in no way moving.

"Found her out cold in the Hermes cabin. This was next to her," he said as he set her down. He pulled a dagger out of his pocket and set it on the table by my cot. It was double edged, with two different metals.

"Luke."

"I can't believe that Luke ..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I _can _believe it. May the gods curse him... He was never the same after his quest."

"This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured. "I will go at once."

"Luke is out there right now," I said. "I have to go after him."

Chiron shook his head. "No, Percy. The gods—"

"Won't even _talk _about Kronos," I snapped. "Zeus declared the matter closed!"

"Percy, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready."

I didn't like it, but part of me suspected Chiron was right.

One look at my hand, and I knew I wasn't going to be sword fighting any time soon.

"Chiron ... your prophecy from the Oracle ... it was about Kronos, wasn't it? Was I in it? And Annabeth?"

Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Percy, it isn't my place—"

"You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?"

His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you …"

Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows.

My sister bolted up in her cot and then clutched her head in pain.

* * *

I could hear the voices again. Then there was thunder. Then there was Chiron shouting.

* * *

"All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!"

He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing."

"We can't just sit back and do nothing," I said.

"_We _will not sit back," Chiron promised. "But _you _must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come."

"Assuming I live that long."

Chiron put his hand on my ankle. "You'll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice..." I got the feeling that he had a very definite opinion, and it was taking all his willpower not to advise me.

"But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision."

I wanted to protest. I wanted to ask him more questions. But his expression told me there could be no more discussion; he had said as much as he could.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you."

He glanced at Annabeth. "Oh, and, my dear ... whenever you're ready, they're here."

"Who's here?" I asked.

Nobody answered.

Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time.

Annabeth studied the ice in my drink.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"Nothing." She set the glass on the table. "I … just took your advice about something. You … um … need anything?"

"Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside."

"Percy, that isn't a good idea."

"Me too!" Mari yipped, stumbling out of bed and into Will, who walked her out.

* * *

I. Feel. Like. Poo.

I don't know what Luke did to me, but the next time he sees me, he's going to taste Converse because I am so going to kick him in the face. How dare he knock me out? That _jerk!_

Will guided me out onto the porch and sat with me on the porch swing. Soon I was leaning against him, enjoying the gentle sway of the swing, and thinking the darkest thoughts ever. Not about joining Kronos, just about how I should destroy him and make him pay for making Luke break his promise.

* * *

I slid my legs out of bed. Annabeth caught me before I could crumple to the floor. A wave of nausea rolled over me.

"I'm fine," I insisted. I didn't want to lie in bed like an invalid while Luke was out there planning to destroy the Western world.

I managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on Annabeth. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance.

By the time we reached the porch, my face was beaded with sweat. My stomach had twisted into knots. But I had managed to make it all the way to the railing.

It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun.

* * *

I smiled as I looked at the glittering lake and tried to tune out Percy and Annabeth. I owed my brother enough to at least _try_ not to eavesdrop on him and a girl, even if that girl was Annabeth. A ray of golden sunlight shone in my face and made little rainbows dance along my lashes when I blinked.

"Will," I laughed.

"What? You look good golden," he said with a grin.

"Ha. Ha. Dude, I'm a demigod. I can't go blind and cause of blindness can't be blinded by boyfriend's super-sunny powers," I said as I turned and buried my face into his shirt. Even so I was seeing spots of light.

"Alright, but I don't complain when you summon up super huge waves when we're down by the water," he said as he poked my side.

"Well I don't see you complain either when I conjure up those giant air bubbles for us when―"

"I think Percy can hear us," Will chimed teasingly.

"And shutting up now," I laughed. I so did not need my brother knowing what I did at the bottom of the lake with my boyfriend. I decided I might as well just enjoy the moment until I could talk to my brother in private.

* * *

"What are you going to do?" Annabeth asked me.

"I don't know."

I told her I got the feeling Chiron wanted me to stay year-round, to put in more individual training time, but I wasn't sure that's what I wanted. I admitted I'd feel bad about leaving my sister and her alone, though, with only Clarisse for company….

Annabeth pursed her lips, then said quietly, "I'm going home for the year, Percy."

I stared at her. "You mean, to your dad's?"

She pointed toward the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Next to Thalia's pine tree, at the very edge of the camp's magical boundaries, a family stood silhouetted—two little children, a woman, and a tall man with blond hair. They seemed to be waiting. The man was holding a backpack that looked like the one Annabeth had gotten from Waterland in

Denver.

"I wrote him a letter when we got back," Annabeth said. "Just like you suggested. I told him ... I was sorry. I'd come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided ... we'd give it another try."

"That took guts."

*She _listened _to _you_?* Mari shrieked inside my head. I flinched a bit and shot her a look. She shrunk back onto the porch swing with Will, who I was slowly adjusting to. I mean, isn't Mari too _young_ to have a boyfriend?

Whoa, off track. Back to Annabeth now.

* * *

I was so shocked I actually would have fallen of the swing if I hadn't had Will's arms around me. Like, what the hades man? I've been telling her for years to make up with her family but nooooo. Percy comes along and _poof_. Let's just all make up with our families! WHAT THE HADES MAN!

"I can't believe she listened to him!" I whispered. "Like what the―"

"Let's not listen to them then," Will suggested. You know, before he provided the perfect distraction. Right in front of my brother and Annabeth.

I hope they didn't notice.

* * *

She pursed her lips. "You won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least … not without sending me an Iris-message?"

I managed a smile. "I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have to."

"When I get back next summer," she said, "we'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, but if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?"

"Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena."

She held out her hand. I shook it.

"Take care, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth told me. "Keep your eyes open."

"You too, Wise Girl."

I watched her walk up the hill and join her family. She gave her father an awkward hug and looked back at the valley one last time. She touched Thalia's pine tree, then allowed herself to be lead over the crest and into the mortal world.

Mari got off the porch swing and walked over to me, wrapping her arm around my torso. Will got up wordlessly and left. I think he knew he and my sister had something to talk about.

"Have you decided whether or not you're staying?" Mari asked quietly as she rested her head on my shoulder.

"Not yet. I still have to think a little, but I think I know what I'm going to do," I said. Then I looked down at her and sighed. "Have you decided yet?"

She looked away from me, looking out at the valley. She began to hum a soft lullaby that I remember my mom used to sing me. How did she know that song?

*I used to hear what you did all the time when we were young. Liz sang this to me every night after I told her about it.*

We stood there silently for a while and then my sister sighed.

"I'm staying at camp year-round Percy," Mari whispered. I sighed and gave her a hug, feeling like a normal big brother would. She let me go and gave me a saddened look. "I'll help you pack if you decide to leave."

Then she was gone.

For the first time at camp, I felt truly alone. I looked out at Long Island Sound and I remembered my father saying, _The sea does not like to be restrained._

I made my decision.

I wondered, if Poseidon were watching, would he approve of my choice?

"I'll be back next summer," I promised him. "I'll survive until then. After all, I am your son." I asked Argus to take me down to cabin three, so I could pack my bags for home.

* * *

***Squeak* Did you guys think she was going to stay year-round after everything they'd been through? Well, she is. The Lightning Theif is over. **

**I love everybody who's read this, reviewed, favorited, or alerted.**

**I won't be posting Sea of Monsters until Christmas, or early December.**

**Review for old times sake?**

**With Love**

**~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis**


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